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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28572972">The Testament of John Watson, M.D.</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/lady_slice/pseuds/lady_slice'>lady_slice</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Memoirs from a Good Doctor [7]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Sherlock Holmes &amp; Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes (Downey films)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Established Relationship, Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Fluff, John Watson &amp; Mary Morstan Friendship, John Watson Loves Sherlock Holmes, M/M, Murder Mystery, Mycroft Holmes &amp; Sherlock Holmes Friendship, Sherlock Holmes &amp; Lestrade Friendship, Sherlock Holmes &amp; Mycroft Holmes Friendship, Sherlock Holmes Has Feelings, Sherlock Holmes Loves John Watson, Sherlock Holmes Needs a Hug, Sherlock is a Mess, Victorian Sherlock Holmes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-05-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 04:27:32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>24,230</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28572972</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/lady_slice/pseuds/lady_slice</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>John is accused of murder. Sherlock—knowing that his companion is not only incapable of committing such a vile act, but the facts of the case seem suspicious—meets his most puzzling and troubling case to date. The case is filled with tension and intrigue, all leading back to an encounter Sherlock once had with his most adept and vicious opponent, Professor James Moriarty.</p><p>This is based off an installment in the game developer Frogware’s wonderful Sherlock Holmes games, The Testament of Sherlock Holmes, as well as bits and pieces from Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows. This story will be updated every first Sunday of the month!</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Sherlock Holmes/John Watson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Memoirs from a Good Doctor [7]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1640503</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><em>January 10, 1892</em>,</p><p>
  <em>I think it’s most appropriate to start where the danger seemed the most eminent…although it wasn’t readily apparent to me until much later…</em>
</p><p>
  <em>It was the beginning of the year. A fresh start…for some, but not so willingly for others. I remember I was on my way to a medical conference for the weekend, leaving Holmes at home with his experiments and cold cases…</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><hr/><p> </p><p>John whistled to himself as he read a folded newspaper with one hand while drinking some tea with the other. He was sitting in the dining car of a train on the way to a medical conference for the weekend. It had been a while since he had been this far away from Baker Street without Sherlock, but John needed the space; Sherlock had taken to spreading out all of his experiments in the sitting room and their bedroom and John needed some time away from his companion’s eccentricities.</p><p><em>The thing I appreciate about him the most is the thing that also annoys me to no end…</em>John thought to himself as he remembered catching Sherlock last week in the act of administering some sort of mystery drug to Gladstone.</p><p>
  <em>…thankfully I came home in time to save the patient…</em>
</p><p>John loved Sherlock dearly, of course, but his companion’s habits were beginning to bear too much lately, so John hardly gave it a second thought after one of his colleagues, a Dr. James Carberry, had asked him to attend a conference in his place. Sherlock was of course annoyed about being apart for so long, but John had reassured him that he would make it up to him somehow. But for now, as John had explained to an indignant Sherlock as he left earlier that morning, they could both use the time to decompress.</p><p><em>I know I do</em>—</p><p>“Dr. Watson?”</p><p>John turned at the sound of a voice to his right, looking upwards to see that one of the train employees had addressed him.</p><p>“Yes?” John betrayed in his voice that he was surprised that the train employee knew who he was.</p><p>The employee smiled slightly. “I matched you to our train manifest. I saw you leave your compartment before coming to the dining car.”</p><p>John nodded, still confused as to why this employee seemed to be following him. “Ah, and what can I help you with?”</p><p>The employee stretched out a hand toward the entrance of the car. “Could you follow me, Doctor? One of our passengers appears under the weather and we would appreciate your help.”</p><p>John nodded sternly; the call of duty was more drawing than being clearly bewildered by this train employee’s eerie demeanor. John placed his newspaper down on the table before rising to follow the employee. They exited the dining car and walked from car to car until they neared the luggage car next to the engine.</p><p>John looked around, thinking the employee would have led him to a passenger compartment instead. “Uh, the passenger is in here?” He pointed to the luggage car.</p><p>The train employee nodded before ushering John inside. But before either one could enter the car, they heard a shrill voice calling for some help down at the other end of the train.</p><p>John turned toward the employee. “My god! What was that? Should you investigate?”</p><p>The employee shook his head. “One of my colleagues will take care of it.”</p><p>John scrunched up his face, even more confused, but before he could respond, the voice appeared again, even louder than before.</p><p>John walked toward the shrill. “You should really take care of that. I’ll be here for the passenger.”</p><p>The employee looked at John, taking a moment before jogging toward the sound of the voice. John watched him leave, remembering to himself that he should probably retrieve his medical bag from his compartment before tending to the passenger. He walked back from car to car until he found his compartment next to the dining car. He took his time opening the door, looking both ways down the hall before entering.</p><p><em>…this is so strange…</em>John thought to himself as he entered his compartment. He found his medical bag, but then also took a moment to retrieve his service revolver from overhead.</p><p><em>…I think I might need this…</em>He thought to himself before placing it inside his jacket pocket. John took another moment to straighten himself and his nerves out before turning to the exit of his compartment, opening the door slightly to look both ways once more before turning his back to lock it. But before he could, a hand shoved him back inside the space.</p><p>John fell forward, catching himself on one of the seat cushions before hitting the floor. He groaned as he turned over onto his back, seeing a woman standing over him before throwing her body on top of him.</p><p>John shrieked as the woman fell right on top of his body, driving an elbow into his stomach. “What!” He struggled with the woman as she tried to reposition her body, “what is the meaning of this? Miss? Excuse me!”</p><p>But as he struggled with this unruly woman, John finally realized as he looked directly up at her, that there was something odd about this woman. So odd that in fact John screamed as he realized that the woman was Sherlock in disguise.</p><p>“Holmes!” John wrestled underneath Sherlock, “what on earth are you doing here? And <em>what </em>in God’s name are you wearing?!”</p><p>Sherlock shook his head as he held John down with both hands before lying down next to him. “Stay down, dear.”</p><p>John sat up on one elbow. "<em>Excuse</em> me—"</p><p>A bullet then penetrated the door, narrowly missing John’s head. He quickly laid down as a stream of more bullets flooded the compartment. John shrieked from the noise as Sherlock laid down quietly next to him before turning on his side.</p><p>“When this barrage stops,” Sherlock shouted at John who was cowering to the side, “we’ll only have a few seconds to hop out of the window to get to the luggage car!”</p><p>“What!” John shouted back, too afraid for his life to fully comprehend what was happening.</p><p>“When we get our moment, we need to exit the train by the window!” Sherlock repeated as if his directions made sense.</p><p>John screamed as the bullets rained into the compartment for a moment or so longer before the deluge stopped suddenly. John, too shocked, laid on his side as Sherlock nudged him in the back.</p><p>“I said, get out of the window, Watson!” Sherlock shouted, yanking on John’s body.</p><p>John sat up as Sherlock continued to yank on his body, now pulling John up to the compartment window. “Hurry up, Watson!” Sherlock shouted as he shoved John out the window.</p><p>John regained his senses as he managed to hold onto something outside the train as his body swung outside.</p><p>“Holmes!” John shouted, his body swinging against the train. He saw Sherlock jump out of the window right before an explosion erupted from the other side of the train, tearing its way through the back end of the train before separating the dining car from the rest of the train Sherlock and John were currently hanging from.</p><p>“Holmes!” John shouted again, “what is going on?!”</p><p>Sherlock ignored him as he beckoned for John to head for a car far away from the explosion. They shimmied along the railings on the train before Sherlock swung his body into a car, interrupting a family of four who were loudly reacting to the commotion brought on by the explosion.</p><p>“Excuse us.” Sherlock offered politely before calming walking to the compartment door. John swung himself inside, nodding nervously to the father of the family who was shouting at them along with the mother who was holding a baby that was wailing loudly.</p><p>Sherlock waved for John to join him at the door, ignoring the family. “Do you have your revolver?”</p><p>John squinted his eyes at Sherlock before showing him the weapon. The mother screamed and the baby cried even louder.</p><p>“Wait until I say ‘now’.” Sherlock instructed, pointing to the door.</p><p>John nodded, bracing himself. Sherlock waited before swinging the door open. “Now, Watson!”</p><p>One of the train employees burst into the space, brandishing a gun. John wasted little time as he squeezed the trigger to his revolver, disarming their assailant almost immediately. Sherlock patted John on the shoulder before running out into the hallway.</p><p>“Holmes!” John shouted as he quickly followed, finding Sherlock running toward the luggage car, “what in God’s sake is going on?! And what are you wearing?!”</p><p>Sherlock laughed nervously as he came to a stop. He held an index finger against his lips to silence John. “Yes, I’ll admit it’s not my <em>best</em> disguise, but I really don’t have enough time to explain to you what’s going on.”</p><p>John groaned as his voice lowered. “Why are you on this train, Holmes?” His voice rose slightly, “why was someone shooting at us?” And then John could no longer contain his palpable anger, “And <em>why</em> is this train missing its dining car?!” He then shouted, looking back and forth down the hallway.</p><p>Sherlock sighed as he held John back with one hand. “Can’t someone miss his companion? This is the longest we’ve been apart—”</p><p>“Holmes,” John stepped in front of Sherlock, “<em>why</em> are you on this train?” He repeated sternly.</p><p>Sherlock smiled before pointing to the luggage car. “I think you can already tell from the events that you have so aptly described that I have it on good authority that you’re in danger, my dear Watson. Now please,” he then turned toward the entry to the luggage car, “we need to apprehend the gentlemen disguised as train employees and guide the rest of this train to a safe destination.”</p><p>John shook his head. “We need to do <em>what</em>?” He asked, the incredulity in his tone quite evident.</p><p>Sherlock sighed. “Just follow me, Watson. I need you clear headed and focused.”</p><p>“Holmes—”</p><p>Sherlock shushed John as he pointed back toward the luggage car. “Upon entering, I’ll need you to disarm anyone brandishing a weapon.”</p><p>John looked at the luggage car, then Sherlock—who looked to be waiting for him to stand guard—before craning his neck to graze down the far end of the train which was exposed to the temperate night air. Knowing he would never receive a decent explanation any time soon, John sighed as he nodded back at Sherlock before standing in position.</p><p>Sherlock nodded back before holding a hand up. He walked a few steps forward with John closely behind before looking back at John.</p><p>“Ready?” Sherlock whispered.</p><p>John nodded again; his jaw was both rigid from determination and irritation. Sherlock nodded once more before kicking the door open to the luggage car. They found three train employees standing over a crate full of various sorts of weaponry.</p><p>Everyone looked at each other for a moment or so before John fired at one of the train employees holding a gun before shooting the hand of another who was in the process of reaching for something in the crate to defend himself. Sherlock ran toward one of the unarmed train employees, wrestling with him to the ground. John lashed out at one of the individuals before the previously armed employee grabbed him from behind, forcing him to lose his grip on his weapon. John fell to the ground with the man, rolling around until he found his revolver. He aimed the revolver at his assailant who cowered in a corner.</p><p>“Watson!” Sherlock shouted as he was now dealing with the two other train employees. John looked behind himself before looking at the employee he had halted.</p><p>“Watson! Some help, please!” Sherlock was now pinned to the ground, gasping for air.</p><p>John turned swiftly to aim his revolver at one of Sherlock’s assailants, shooting the man in the leg. Sherlock jumped up and pinned the other employee to the ground as John went back to guarding the third in the corner.</p><p>Suddenly, as the train eventually glided to a complete and bumpy stop, a group of local police officers appeared in the luggage car, wielding their guns.</p><p>“Stop where you are!” One the officers shouted at everyone.</p><p>Sherlock let go of the employee he had pinned and John holstered his weapon. “Officers, we have the culprits. I’m one of the passengers, Dr. Watson.” John searched around in his coat for his ticket before holding it out for the officers.</p><p>One of the officers scanned the car suspiciously before slowly approaching John to look at his ticket and check it against the train’s manifest he had procured from the local train station.</p><p>The officer reviewed the manifest before looking up at John. “Dr. Watson, you’re on the train’s manifest,” he then turned to face Sherlock, now expressing confusion by Sherlock’s costume.</p><p>“Is this man one of the attackers?”</p><p>John sighed as he looked at Sherlock who shrugged with a slight grin before facing the police officer. John took a minute, several long minutes to be exact, truly contemplating the prospect of having a few nights to himself as Sherlock regaled prisoners at the local prison.</p><p>“John?” Sherlock’s voice interrupted a brief fantasy John was experiencing, imagining reading the morning paper in peace, “we have tea with Mary later this week, so please bear that in mind.”</p><p>With a quick glance, John shot Sherlock several daggers with his eyes before turning to face the police officer again.</p><p>“No,” John sighed loudly, “he’s with me. You can’t tell right now, but this is Sherlock Holmes.”</p><p>The police officer’s eyes widened as his mouth fell open. His neck swiveled his head back and forth as he gawked at John then back at Sherlock, seemingly surprised that the man wearing an ill-fitting dress and smeared makeup was the great Sherlock Holmes.</p><p>“<em>The </em>Sherlock Holmes?” The police officer said out loud, his tone patently stunned.</p><p>Sherlock nodded as he straightened out the frills on his collar. “Yes, at your service.” He then bowed dramatically before straightening up with a grin on his face.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>Several months later…</em>
</p><p>“Mr. Holmes, I understand your methods, but is it <em>really</em> necessary for us to all be outside while it still feels like winter?</p><p>Sherlock was on his knees, hunched over a spot which he eyed with his magnifying glass. He was surrounded by John and one other person: an American heiress married to a British noble who lived out on the edge of London. John and the heiress were watching Sherlock scurry around in the garden behind a grand mansion.</p><p>Sherlock hummed to himself as he continued searching amongst some orchids, stopping for a second to inspect the stem to one before yanking it forcefully from the root.</p><p>“Mr. Holmes!” The heiress shouted, “those were brought to the house this morning! They were imported from Singapore!”</p><p>Sherlock tossed the orchid to the side before using both hands to dig ravenously through the dirt.</p><p>“Mr. Holmes!” The heiress shouted again. She stepped forward to defend her garden, but John gently held out his hand to stop her.</p><p>“Holmes, do you have to be so careless?”</p><p>Sherlock stopped digging as he reached downward into the giant hole he had created. “I think I may have found your jewels, Madame.”</p><p>The heiress gasped as Sherlock straightened up, holding a necklace full of precious pearls. The heiress gasped again as she accepted the necklace that was now soiled from the garden’s dirt.</p><p>“But…but…,” the heiress looked up at Sherlock, “there were signs that someone had broken into my room—”</p><p>“No sign of forced entry,” Sherlock held up a hand to interrupt the heiress, “only a few tossed items and the missing pearls. Where is your youngest child, Madame?”</p><p>The heiress gawked at John who just shrugged before looking back at Sherlock. “With the governess, Mr. Holmes.”</p><p>Sherlock stepped toward the heiress. “Are you certain?” He eyed the woman as he waited for a response.</p><p>The heiress gulped as she rung her hands together. “Well, last time I checked, which was early this morning before I left for my appointment.”</p><p>Sherlock smiled before walking around the heiress. “I believe that your pearls were ‘stolen’ by your youngest. But not in an act of nascent thievery, but adolescent curiosity. Many of the items moved around in the room suggest that someone was intrigued by what they saw, and <em>not</em> looking for something in particular…”</p><p>Sherlock crouched down near the garden. “It’s not difficult to see that your youngest child must have gotten into your jewelry box, taken the pearls before placing them on the ground. Then the family dog,” Sherlock pointed to some dog foot prints in the dirt leading to the garden, “found the pearls and buried them in the garden. The gardener freshly planted these orchids on top of the dog’s clever hiding place.”</p><p>The heiress gasped once more, clenching her pearls in her hand and against her chest. “Why, Mr. Holmes! You’re brilliant!”</p><p>Sherlock smirked. “Merely keeping my eyes open and wide to the facts laid bare, Madame.”</p><p>John clapped his hands together. “Well, I’m glad it wasn’t a theft, Madame.”</p><p>The heiress turned to nod back at John before facing Sherlock again. “Please, Mr. Holmes. You must stay for dinner.”</p><p>Sherlock chuckled. “Thank you for the offer, but we must be getting on our way.” He winked at John before acknowledging the heiress again.</p><p>The heiress thanked Sherlock once more before instructing one of her servants to show Sherlock and John out of the house and to hail them a hansom.</p><p>John let Sherlock into the hansom before sliding in. “Well done, Holmes. But it seems as if the heiress should keep better watch over her children.”</p><p>Sherlock laughed. “That or better watch over her gardener."</p><p>John’s face twisted as he expressed his confusion. “Beg pardon, Holmes?”</p><p>Sherlock laughed again as the hansom shook their bodies around a bit from the pebbled paths. “The orchids in the heiress’s garden are Early Purple Orchids which are native to many regions around the world, but <em>not </em>Singapore.”</p><p>John laughed as he shook his head. “Well, it seems as if the real crime has been discovered.”</p><p>They chatted a bit longer before the hansom stopped in front of their home on Baker Street. John hopped out of the hansom first and waited for Sherlock before opening the front door to the building.</p><p>“I do believe that Mrs. Hudson has graciously prepared our meal for us already.” John commented as he followed Sherlock up the stairs. He walked ahead of Sherlock to open the door to their sitting room, smiling widely.</p><p>Sherlock squinted his eyes before smiling back. “You seem to be in a good mood, Watson.” He added as he walked ahead of John into the room.</p><p>John shut the door behind him before shedding his jacket. “Mostly because we’ve managed to get back home in time for dinner.”</p><p>Sherlock glanced at John with a wink before sauntering over to their breakfast table. He sighed as he picked up that day’s newspaper which hadn’t been trimmed and shredded for his archive.</p><p>“What, Holmes?” John walked over to the fireplace to pet Gladstone before joining Sherlock at the table.  </p><p>Sherlock groaned as he folded the newspaper to read another section. “Conrad Coney. It’s amazing what some people will do for notoriety.”</p><p>John laughed as he settled in at the breakfast table. “I don’t know why you read his articles, Holmes.”</p><p>“While Conrad Coney often trades in oleaginous scandals,” Sherlock started, “from time to time, he does offer some information for a potential lead.” He kept his eyes on the paper.</p><p>John huffed as he reached for the tea Mrs. Hudson had set out for them prior to their arrival. “Holmes, you are absolutely ridiculous. You’re aware of this, correct?”</p><p>Sherlock huffed as he continued reading the paper. “Also, it appears that Basil Whitehall is at it again with his fearmongering.” He added before flipping to another section.</p><p>John groaned as he took a sip from his teacup. “That’s a name I’ll be glad not to hear about after this year’s election. His standing appears dismal.”</p><p>Sherlock placed the paper on the table before pouring himself a cup of tea. “Let’s hope he doesn’t try something drastic in the interim.”</p><p>John scrunched up his face before reaching for the cutlery next to his plate. “Basil Whitehall is a thug disguised as a MP, but I highly doubt he would go to such lengths to keep his seat.”</p><p>Sherlock chuckled as he sat back in his chair. “You would be amazed, my dear Watson, at what some people are capable of doing in order to hold onto power. Whitehall has his eyes on the Prime Minister.”</p><p>John rolled his eyes. “<em>Everyone </em>in Parliament has their eyes on the Prime Minister, Holmes. Whitehall is too smart to pull any stunt.”</p><p>Sherlock nodded his head slowly. “Yes, of course, Watson. Power and greed are commonplace.”</p><p>“Not everything will result in scandal and intrigue, Holmes.” Watson smiled before returning to his food.</p><p>Sherlock sighed. “Oh, how I wish everything were capable of scandal and intrigue. I don’t think I’ll survive recovering wayward jewelry for the careless.”</p><p>John chuckled. “I understand, Holmes, but you should really enjoy the slow going with cases, even despite the extraordinary start to the year we’ve had. I’m sure the year will present you with your most trying case to date. Then you’ll have the energy to solve it effectively.”</p><p>Sherlock stared at John, seemingly annoyed before cracking a slight smile. “Perhaps, Watson, perhaps.”</p><p>They returned to their meal and chatted for a bit before John slapped a hand to his forehead, groaning loudly.</p><p>“Is something the matter, dear?” Sherlock asked in between bites.</p><p>John grumbled. “I forgot that I need to visit James Carberry. He hasn’t been feeling well lately and asked if I could give him a second opinion to confirm his own.” The last part of John’s explanation irked him the most. James Carberry was a classmate of John’s back at the University of London, but lately they hadn’t been seeing eye-to-eye. Most of this tension was due to John objecting to Carberry’s marginally unethical medical practices.</p><p>Sherlock nodded. “Well, you should get on that, Watson. Don’t want you back home too late.”</p><p>John titled his head to the side, remaining in his chair as he stared back at Sherlock. “You don’t mind? We don’t usually get too many of these quiet evenings.”</p><p>Sherlock nodded again, providing John with a reassuring smile. “It’s quite all right, Watson. I would never interfere with your work.”</p><p>John continued to express his skepticism with his companion’s statement, but then told himself that Sherlock appeared genuine in the moment.</p><p>“All right,” he stood up from the table to walk over to Sherlock to give him a kiss on the forehead, “I shouldn’t be too long. I’ll see you in an hour or so.”</p><p>Sherlock nodded as he watched John cross the sitting room to retrieve his coat before exiting to travel to his patient’s home.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>Later that evening…</em>
</p><p>Ambient classical music played on as a nicely dressed man wearing his night attire was disturbed by the front door’s bell. The man looked up from his book, thinking one of his servants would answer the door, but a minute passed before he was disturbed by another ring.</p><p>“For god’s sake!” The man muttered to himself as another ring penetrated his solitude. He rose from his chair in his library in a huff, tossing his book onto his desk as he straightened himself out before walking through the hall passage to get to the vestibule to answer his inconvenient caller.</p><p>“I shouldn’t be answering the door!” The man shouted again before calming himself. He took a deep breath before opening the door to find someone he didn’t recognize.</p><p>The man scrunched up his face at his visitor. “Uh, may I help you?”</p><p>The stranger nodded before reaching inside his jacket. The man’s expression turned quizzical before it shifted into a look of absolute and unstrained horror as the stranger produced a revolver from his jacket. The stranger smiled before shooting the man in the middle of his chest. The man clenched his chest as he crumbled to the floor in a pool of his own blood.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>In the early hours of the morning…</em>
</p><p>“Mr. Holmes! Dr. Watson!”</p><p>John wrestled awake from his sleep, groaning from his sleep being interrupted in the middle of its cycle.</p><p>“Mr. Holmes! Dr. Watson!”</p><p>John rubbed his head; he could hear Mrs. Hudson calling for them from out in the hallway.</p><p>
  <em>Why is Mrs. Hudson up at such a late hour…?</em>
</p><p>John reached over to wake Sherlock who was snoring loudly. “Holmes. Wake up. Something’s the matter with Mrs. Hudson.”</p><p>Sherlock waved John off before turning onto his other side. “It’s too early to deal with whatever is ailing Mrs. Hudson.”</p><p>John sighed as he rose from the bed to find a robe. He secured the robe before walking out into the sitting room to hear a man speaking to Mrs. Hudson beyond the door, but he didn’t recognize the voice.</p><p>John took his time opening the door, revealing a distraught looking Mrs. Hudson accompanied with a man surrounded by police officers from Scotland Yard.</p><p>“Mrs. Hudson,” John looked at Mrs. Hudson before acknowledging the group of officers, “is something the matter?”</p><p>But before Mrs. Hudson could respond, the man walked forward, barging his way into the room.</p><p>“Dr. John Watson?” He asked sternly.</p><p>“Uh,” John looked at the man before looking back at Mrs. Hudson who was now surrounded by more police officers, “yes. May I ask what is the matter?”</p><p>The man stepped forward as he pulled out a pair of handcuffs. “Can you please come with me, Dr. Watson?”</p><p>John backed away, shocked. “What? What for?”</p><p>“What’s going on?” Sherlock finally appeared in the sitting room, “Detective Baynes, what’s going on?”</p><p>The detective holding out handcuffs in front of John seemed bewildered that Sherlock knew who he was, but then he quickly regrouped.</p><p>“Dr. Watson is under arrest.”</p><p>Both Mrs. Hudson and Sherlock crowded around a now terrified looking John. “For what?” Mrs. Hudson shrieked.</p><p>Sherlock stepped in front of John to wedge himself between Detective Baynes and his companion. “Detective Baynes, what is the meaning of this? Where’s your warrant and where is Lestrade?”</p><p>Detective Baynes eyed Sherlock before stepping back one step but he still had his handcuffs out. He took a moment before taking an official looking document from his pocket.</p><p>“I have a warrant and Lestrade is at the Yard,” Detective Baynes responded coolly, “I have my orders.”</p><p>Sherlock looked back at Mrs. Hudson and John. “What is Dr. Watson under arrest for?”</p><p>“Murder…,” Detective Baynes started, “Dr. Watson is under arrest for the murder of Dr. James Carberry.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“…as you can see, certain physical and economic traits can aid in discerning the criminal…”</p><p>A speaker was standing in front of an audience in a large auditorium at the University of London. He was standing behind a dais, pointing to some diagrams he had one of his research fellows draw on a chalk board before the presentation.</p><p>“…and while some of these traits can be difficult to pinpoint at a cursory glance, knowing the vast array of possible character traits is more than beneficial in aiding the police in their investigations—”</p><p>A loud, boisterous cough interrupted the speaker. He stopped reading his notes to glare out into the crowd before effortlessly resuming his lecture.</p><p>“Some possible character traits include the disordered—”</p><p>The disrupter coughed again causing some audience members to grumble, but the speaker pressed on, never seemingly losing his resolve.</p><p>“—previous violent tendencies—”</p><p>And again, one more cough from the speaker’s unrelenting interrupter, but this time the speaker stopped his lecture as the restlessness in the audience brought on by the persistent cough became intolerable.</p><p>“Yes?” The speaker asked as he looked in the direction of the cough, “you seem to want to add something to my lecture.” His annoyance was unmistakable to everyone, but he managed to remain cool.</p><p>The interloper sat up straight in his chair, straightening out his jacket before waving his hand. “No, no. I don’t mean to interrupt, Professor Moriarty.”</p><p>A grin slowly crept up on Moriarty’s face. He laughed to himself before looking directly at audience again.</p><p>“Well, I never turn down an opportunity to participate in scholarly discourse. So, please, I insist, uh, Mister…?</p><p>“Holmes. Sherlock Holmes. However, I really don’t mean to interrupt…”</p><p>Moriarty shook his head. “You’ve already captured my attention, Mr. Holmes.”</p><p>Sherlock stared back at Moriarty; the same self-satisfied grin appeared on his own face. He rose from his seat.</p><p>“Well, then, Professor Moriarty, if you insist…”</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>“Dr. Watson is under arrest for the murder of Dr. James Carberry.”</p><p>Before anyone could react, Gladstone appeared suddenly in front of Sherlock, John and Mrs. Hudson, growling at Detective Baynes who yelped from the provocation.</p><p>“Control your damn dog!” Detective Baynes shouted as Mrs. Hudson brushed past Sherlock to take a hold of Gladstone, “Dr. Watson, please come with us.” He then added as soon as he had some space between himself and Gladstone.</p><p>Sherlock stepped in between John and Detective Baynes once more before the police officers could get to John.</p><p>“Murder, Detective Baynes? What proof do you have?”</p><p>“…murder…?” John let out, clearly disturbed that Dr. Carberry was dead, yet unable to fully articulate himself.</p><p>Detective Baynes gathered himself from being frightened now by Gladstone’s insistent barking before waving for his men to arrest John.</p><p>“Dr. Watson was the last to see Dr. Carberry. His servants are witnesses to this visit.” He vaguely explained as one of the police officers marched toward John to restrain him in handcuffs. John could hardly response as he let the officer escort him out of the sitting room.</p><p>“Dr. Watson!” Mrs. Hudson cried before turning to Sherlock, “Mr. Holmes, please do something!”</p><p>Sherlock stepped toward the front door of the sitting room to stop the police from exiting with John. “Detective Baynes, you of all people should know you’ll need more than just a visit for an arrest. I’m sure Dr. Carberry is more popular than you give him credit.”</p><p>Detective Baynes nearly shoved Sherlock out of the way as he and his men tried to get past with John. “There’s more to it, Mr. Holmes. So, if you don’t mind, please let us do our job.”</p><p>“Detective Baynes, you still haven’t explained yourself.” Sherlock angrily responded.</p><p>“Holmes…,” John finally spoke up as the police officers restraining him led him out of the room, “please… let the officers do their job…” was all he could offer considering the moment.</p><p>As soon as he finished his sentence, John was yanked out of sight down the hallway by the police officers. Sherlock tried to go after them, but Detective Baynes blocked his path.</p><p>“We would appreciate your full cooperation down at the Yard,” Detectives Baynes began coolly, looking back and forth between Mrs. Hudson and Sherlock, “the both of you, please.”</p><p>Mrs. Hudson let out another cry of disbelief as Sherlock tried to look past Detective Baynes. He then turned to look directly at the detective who stood his ground at the front door to the sitting room.</p><p>“Of course, Detective Baynes. And I’m sure this is a misunderstanding.” Sherlock responded just as coolly as Detective Baynes voice had been, causing the detective to flinch slightly.</p><p>Detective Baynes regrouped as he escorted Sherlock and a terrified Mrs. Hudson out of their building to a separate automobile. They could see the officers manhandling John into a police wagon before whisking away abruptly from the scene.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>Later at Scotland Yard…</em>
</p><p>“Is this really necessary?” John responded as a police officer shoved him into a cramped cell that was occupied by three other people.</p><p>The officer barely acknowledged him as he locked the cell. John turned to look out past the bars as best as he could, but he could only hear Sherlock arguing with Detective Baynes over the facts of the case that was only slightly muffled by Mrs. Hudson’s crying.</p><p>“If you’re not willing to explain what concrete evidence you have,” John could hear Sherlock shout, “then I’m speaking with Lestrade!”</p><p>“Mr. Holmes,” John could hear Detective Baynes, “we just need you and Mrs. Hudson to answer some questions, but that’s all. We’re holding Dr. Watson before transporting him to another facility.”</p><p>John heard some more shouting before a door slammed closed. He sighed to himself, not really sure how to comprehend what was currently happening to him, stunned that not only had someone murdered his colleague, but he had also been arrested for the deed.</p><p>John looked around at his cellmates: one man wearing tattered clothing was sleeping soundly on a cot off in the corner and the other two were loudly arguing with each other before it turned into a mild scuffle.</p><p>“Oy!” One of the police officers standing watch banged on the cell bars with his night stick, “cut it out, you louts!”</p><p>The men stopped wrestling with each other as John inched his way along the wall to find a spot to sit on a bench near the man sleeping on the cot.</p><p><em>…how can this be…?</em> John sighed to himself, leaning forward to rest his head in hands, too shocked to piece together the situation.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>“Lestrade!” Sherlock barged into Lestrade’s office, “what is going on? Why is Watson under arrest for murder?”</p><p>Lestrade was already on his way toward his office door from his desk to calm Sherlock, seemingly prompted by hearing Sherlock arguing with Detective Baynes.</p><p>“Holmes, you need to calm yourself. When my men questioned Dr. Carberry’s servants, they said that they heard Dr. Watson arguing with the victim late last evening. He was the last person they saw visit the house.”</p><p>Sherlock huffed as he marched toward Lestrade. “Lestrade, surely even you can’t believe that. You have an argument that was overheard and that’s all?”</p><p>Lestrade shook his head as he stood his ground against Sherlock. He stared back at him before sighing loudly.</p><p>“Holmes, I don’t like this anymore than you do. I consider Dr. Watson to be a dear friend and it troubles me that he’s possibly capable of such lengths, but witnesses saw a man fitting Dr. Watson’s physical description leave the scene. I don’t know what else to tell you, Holmes. Those are the facts.”</p><p>Sherlock expressed his incredulity with the statement, but Lestrade continued on. “Dr. Watson also owns a revolver...all we need to do is match the bullet we found at the scene to the revolver, Holmes.”</p><p>“Then you <em>won’t</em>, Lestrade.” Sherlock shot back, “Watson has never taken his revolver with him when he’s visiting patients. You can look through our house if you want, but not only will you find it, you’ll see that it hasn’t been used in quite some time.”</p><p>Lestrade frowned before letting out another sigh. Sherlock was becoming more visibly agitated than he had already been up until this point, annoyed that Lestrade was employing the same tactics he reserved for family members and associates of suspects on him.</p><p>“Holmes, I suggest you don’t get involved. You’re too close to the case. You’ll only end up impeding our efforts if we <em>do</em> end up finding something to exonerate Dr. Watson…also I really shouldn’t be discussing the case with you. I’m not even the lead on this; Baynes is.”</p><p>“I want to see what evidence Detective Baynes has managed to recover from the scene.” Sherlock demanded as he turned around to exit the office.</p><p>Lestrade ran ahead to stop Sherlock at the door. “Holmes, <em>don’t</em> get involved. Baynes has his evidence and his reasoning. But like I already said, I can’t discuss it any further with you because you’re close to the suspect.”</p><p>Sherlock eyed Lestrade before verbally responding. He could tell that the inspector was keeping something from him.</p><p>“Tell me what he has, Lestrade, or I’ll find out myself.”</p><p>Lestrade shook his head. “No, Holmes. And that’s final.”</p><p>Sherlock wasted little time as he shoved Lestrade to the side to exit the office. Lestrade swiftly grabbed him by the arm to keep him from going any further.</p><p>“Holmes!” Lestrade shouted, his frustration seething, “I’m going to have to put you in a cell if you don’t remain calm!”</p><p>Sherlock struggled against Lestrade before breaking free. “Guards!” Lestrade shouted, waving for some officers to catch Sherlock before he could get further down the hallway toward the evidence room.</p><p>Two officers took a hold of Sherlock before he barely made a move. Lestrade walked up to the group. “Holmes, don’t make me do this.”</p><p>“Inspector Lestrade.” Everyone was interrupted suddenly by a relaxed, disinterested voice, “could you please have your men unhand my brother. All of this is quite unnecessary.”</p><p>“Excuse me?” Lestrade turned around to face Mycroft who had seemingly appeared out of thin air.</p><p>“Nice to see you again, Inspector, but if you don’t hand my brother over to me at once, I can make your position more difficult for you than it already is.”</p><p>Lestrade looked back and forth between Sherlock and Mycroft as he finally remembered who Mycroft was along his powerful government connections that could potentially jam up regular procedures at the Yard if prompted. He then reluctantly waved for the officers to let go of Sherlock.</p><p>“Holmes,” Lestrade stepped in front of Sherlock before he could walk away, “don’t get involved.”</p><p>“I’m inclined to agree with the inspector, my dear brother,” Mycroft effortlessly added, “let’s say our goodbyes to Dr. Watson and let the police sort this business out.”</p><p>Sherlock eyed Mycroft as he massaged his wrists from the tight hold the officers had on him previously. After a minute or so, he finally nodded as one of the officers escorted him and Mycroft to John’s cell.</p><p>“Should I even ask how you know we’re here…” Sherlock angrily whispered as they approached the area where the prisoners were detained.</p><p>Mycroft laughed. “I happened to stop by Baker Street to call on you for breakfast, but one of the street children informed me that he saw you, Dr. Watson, and your maid escorted out by police officers.”</p><p>Sherlock rolled his eyes but before he could add anything, he spotted John sitting in a tiny cell, huddled in a corner.</p><p>“Watson.” He called as he walked up to the cell, trying to keep it together in front of his brother and the officers on guard.</p><p>John looked up before rising from the bench he was sitting on. He smiled wearingly at Sherlock as he met him at the bars.</p><p>“Well, I think I spoke too soon about the year presenting you with your most trying case to date, Holmes.” He attempted half-heartedly with a shrug.</p><p>But whatever attempt on John’s part only made Sherlock even more visibly upset. John sighed as Sherlock remained silent, hanging his head as he leaned up against the bars. John could hear Sherlock sniffling quietly.</p><p>“Sherlock…” John did his best to reach through the bars to touch his companion, “I need you to focus. You’re the only one who can help me.”</p><p>Sherlock nodded slowly before looking up at John who was trying his best to remain composed for the both of them. Some time passed as John attempted to comfort Sherlock.</p><p>“…but please don’t get yourself into trouble, I don’t want the both of us behind bars…” John added quietly.</p><p>Sherlock nodded again, but he was too upset to contribute.</p><p>“Sherly…” Mycroft stepped forward to take a hold of Sherlock’s arm as the latter was still trying to reach for John through the bars, “we should go.” He ended as softly as he was able given the situation.</p><p>Sherlock nodded once more, lingering a bit to indicate to John that he was doing his best not to devolve into a complete mess in public.</p><p>“Sherlock.” Mycroft repeated, “please.”</p><p>Sherlock looked at Mycroft before facing John again who nodded to signal that he agreed with Mycroft. Sherlock sighed as he finally let Mycroft lead him away from the cell and out to a hansom waiting outside with Mrs. Hudson already in the back passenger seat.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>Back at Baker Street…</em>
</p><p>“Mrs. Hudson, be a dear and fetch us some tea.” Mycroft asked as politely as his personality allowed.</p><p>The three of them had just arrived back at Baker Street. The entire ride back, as one could imagine, was tensed, to say the least. Sherlock refused to speak with anyone; Mrs. Hudson cried, explaining that John was innocent; and Mycroft quietly pondered to himself how he had gotten into such a mess when he only wanted to see his brother for breakfast.</p><p>Mrs. Hudson sniffled with a nod before turning around to exit the sitting room. Mycroft sighed as he turned slightly to find Sherlock rifling through some documents on his desk.</p><p>“Sherly,” Mycroft stepped forward, “I really think you should take it easy…there’s not much we can do at the moment…” he paused as he watched his brother then walk over to the fireplace, “Sherly.”</p><p>Sherlock waved his brother off as he stood in front of the fireplace, now clearly thinking deeply. Mycroft sat down in a chair, watching Sherlock now pace back and forth.</p><p>“Sherly.” Mycroft started, but Sherlock waved him off again as he continued to pace.</p><p>Mycroft sighed. “Sherly. Please. You’re making me anxious.”</p><p>Sherlock stopped pacing as he faced the fireplace. “…something’s not right…I’m certain.”</p><p>Mycroft nodded in silence as Sherlock paused to study the fireplace. “Sherly, you’ll need to let the police do their job. Dr. Watson is quite mediocre at best, but that <em>hardly </em>makes him a murderer.” Mycroft ended his statement in a huff, making it clear that he thought he was giving John an exemplary compliment.</p><p>“From what I can understand from my very brief conversation with Inspector Lestrade is whatever evidence they do have sounds circumstantial—”</p><p>“Mycroft,” Sherlock had spun around to face his brother, “we need to go to Dr. Carberry’s house.”</p><p>Mycroft crossed his legs with a sigh. “Sherly, what did I say? You shouldn’t get involved.”</p><p>Sherlock shook his head as he marched to the other side of the sitting room to retrieve his coat again. He hardly spoke another word as he then exited the room quickly with Mycroft not too far behind.</p><p>“Sherlock!” Mycroft shouted from the top of the stairs, “you need to leave the case alone! Besides, Mrs. Hudson will be back soon with tea!”</p><p>But Mycroft heard no verbal response; he just watched the front door to the building close. He swore to himself as he ran back into the sitting room to grab his coat and hat before running after Sherlock who was outside ascending a hansom.</p><p>“Sherly.” Mycroft jumped into the hansom right after Sherlock as the latter gave the address to their intended destination.</p><p>“Mycroft, would you please stop,” Sherlock finally answered, “there’s something troubling about all of this besides the fact that the police have the wrong person in custody. Watson was only gone for a little over an hour and he was with me the rest of the night.”</p><p>Mycroft nodded. “Did you tell the police that? If that’s the case, then they’ll probably let him go soon.”</p><p>Sherlock shook his head. “Baynes supposedly has some incriminatory evidence that Lestrade was unwilling to divulge. We need to find out what they missed at that house.”</p><p>Mycroft groaned as he sat back in the seat. “Of all the times I’m not particularly interested in helping you solve a case, dear brother. All I wanted was breakfast.”</p><p>The wheels of the hansom ran over a few pebbles causing their bodies to sway back and forth. Mycroft slouched further down in the seat.</p><p>“Mycroft, I need you to remain serious if you’re going to help me.” Sherlock responded as the hansom whisked them away toward Dr. Carberry’s. Sherlock directed the driver to drop them over about a block away on the opposite side so they could approach the house from behind.</p><p>As soon as the hansom stopped moving, both men hopped out before sneaking around the back side of the house to avoid the police who were cleaning up the scene while fighting off a swarm of press agents.</p><p>Mycroft pointed to a well-dressed man asking some of the police officers questions. “Well, it appears that Conrad Coney has caught wind of this tragedy…”</p><p>Sherlock groaned as he hugged his body up against the wall, walking toward the back of the house.</p><p>“…despite the man’s nefarious methods,” Mycroft continued, not realizing that he had been left alone, “I do admire his persistence…” he then turned to his side, noticing that Sherlock had disappeared behind the back of the house, “Sherly!” Mycroft managed to cry out in a half whisper.</p><p>Sherlock ignored Mycroft as he slid against the wall, peeking in through windows before finding a window that looked into Dr. Carberry’s study. Sherlock tried to carefully jimmy the lock to the window, but he struggled as he was still too upset about John.</p><p>“Sherly!” Mycroft appeared just in time to witness Sherlock breaking the window before hopping inside the study.</p><p>“Sherly!” Mycroft called again. He looked down the length of the side walkway leading from the back of the house to the front to ensure that no one had heard Sherlock breaking into the house.</p><p>“For god’s sake, Sherlock.” Mycroft grumbled as he glanced inside to see Sherlock rummaging through Dr. Carberry’s desk.</p><p>Mycroft wrapped his scarf a few times around his hand before clearing the broken shards of glass left in the window frame to get inside the study. He fumbled around awkwardly, nearing falling over before he managed to get inside.</p><p>“…a page in this journal is missing…” Sherlock commented mostly to himself, as he flipped through a journal he had found on Dr. Carberry’s desk. He inspected the torn page before flipping through a few more pages.</p><p>“…it seems as if Dr. Carberry was working on some sort of an experiment…” Something in the corner of a page caught Sherlock’s eye. He squinted to peer down at the inscription.</p><p>“H.S.…there’s something here about Carberry working with someone called H.S.…how could the police miss this?” Sherlock mused aloud.</p><p>Mycroft stepped forward to join him at the desk. “Are you not the one you rambles on and on about how incompetent the London police are?”</p><p>Sherlock glared at Mycroft before pointing to some empty vials on the desk. “I’m willing to bet that whatever is missing in this journal may be connected to these vials…” Sherlock added slowly.</p><p>Mycroft sighed dramatically. “I’m not entirely sure I should even say this to you, Sherly, given your alarmingly uncharacteristic hysterical state.”</p><p>Sherlock scrunched up his face as he turned sharply to look slightly upwards at his brother. “Mycroft, I am <em>not </em>hysterical.”</p><p>Mycroft huffed as he pointed to the window Sherlock had clumsily broken mere minutes ago to get into Dr. Carberry’s study, before turning to point directly at Sherlock with another huff, indicating his brother’s increasingly disheveled appearance.</p><p>Sherlock groaned loudly as he turned back to the vials on the desk. “Mycroft, if you care about me then you <em>should</em> care about helping John. So please,” he then turned to get into Mycroft’s face, “stop playing games and tell me what you know.”</p><p>Mycroft stared back at Sherlock, seemingly appearing as if he was weighing such an important decision against whatever was secretly bothering him.</p><p>“Fine,” Mycroft relented, picking up one of the vials “these vials…I’ve seen them somewhere…”</p><p>Mycroft sighed again as he crossed the room with the vial. “One of my informants has been tracking down this new drug that’s been circulating recently. Not entirely sure of its effects, but…”</p><p>“But, what, Mycroft? You’re going to have to do better than that.” Sherlock snapped.</p><p>Mycroft scrunched up his face at his brother. “Sherlock, I’m telling you the truth. The only thing is…” He paused as he shuffled about, looking worried.</p><p>“Mycroft.” Sherlock responded sharply.</p><p>Mycroft frowned before letting out a sigh. “My informant also told me last night about the death of a priest who serves in the Whitechapel neighborhood…the body was just discovered late last night at the neighborhood parish church, but the police have yet to be informed. The death seems…suspicious…”</p><p>Sherlock stuffed Dr. Carberry’s journal into his coat pocket along with one of the vials before marching back to the broken window without another word.</p><p>“Sherly!” Mycroft shouted as he tried to catch up with Sherlock who was already out the window and halfway toward the street.</p><p>Mycroft fell out of the window, landing on a patch of green with a loud thud. He moaned in pain as he continued to call for Sherlock who was already back toward the front of the house.</p><p>“Sherly.” Mycroft squeaked, holding his elbow that was bruised from the fall. He rolled back and forth on his back until Sherlock reappeared again, trying to help him up to feet.</p><p>“Mycroft, please.” Sherlock said curtly, now dragging Mycroft by the arm, “you’ll alert everyone to our presence here if you continue wailing about.”</p><p>Mycroft groaned again as he struggled to keep up with Sherlock now hobbling from the fall. Sherlock ignored his brother's pained protests as they walked back to the block behind the house to hail a hansom. Mycroft continued to complain about the fall and Sherlock’s pursuit of the facts all the way to the other side of the city until they arrived in the Whitechapel neighborhood, one of London’s poorest neighborhoods.</p><p>“You can stop here, thank you.” Sherlock called to their driver as they approached the side of the church.</p><p>As soon as the hansom stopped, Sherlock quickly descended while Mycroft took his time following. He paid the driver before finally getting out, looking around the outside of the church with distain.</p><p>“Well, it looks like the gardener has been on <em>quite</em> the extended vacation.”</p><p>Sherlock groaned as he searched around the area, finding a window on the first floor that looked the easiest to pry open.</p><p>“Sherly…” Mycroft stayed near the street, looking around anxiously, “I’m beginning to think this is an unwise, if not deeply dreadful idea.”</p><p>Sherlock ignored his brother as he managed to pry the old window open before hopping inside. He poked his head.</p><p>“Why, Mycroft. You’ve seemed to have grown a conscious!” He called after his brother before disappearing into the hall of the church.</p><p>Mycroft feigned offense as he tried to see where Sherlock had run off to. He then looked around himself again, sighing.</p><p>“For god’s sake, Sherly.” He groaned as he walked through the unkept garden to hoist himself through the window, nearly toppling over again from the pain shooting through his elbow. As soon as he was inside, he could see Sherlock entering a chapel down the far end of the hallway.</p><p>Mycroft ran toward the chapel before slowing down, mindful of his footsteps as they probably weren’t alone. He finally reached the chapel to find Sherlock standing over the body of the murdered priest.</p><p>“My god…” Mycroft gasped, “it’s far worse than I thought…”</p><p>Sherlock looked up at his brother before looking back down at the priest. The man looked like he had been mauled by a bear.</p><p>Sherlock hesitated before crouching down near the priest as Mycroft rushed to the other side of the room, too disturbed by the scene.</p><p>“This man looks like he was in a fight for his life…” Sherlock nearly whispered as he carefully inspected the priest’s clothing and devastating wounds, “…but with what, is the question…”</p><p>Mycroft made a noise of disbelief, but Sherlock ignored him as he continued to search around the body of the priest.</p><p>“Sherly, we should make our leave before the police arrive.”</p><p>Sherlock waved a hand behind himself to quiet Mycroft as he used a little pair of scissors to cut a piece of cloth that had been damaged by the attack and was covered in blood.</p><p>“Maybe whomever or <em>whatever</em> attacked the priest’s blood will be on this cloth…” Sherlock mostly muttered to himself.</p><p>“Sherly.” Sherlock could hear Mycroft trying to speak to him, but he was too busy collecting samples around the scene. He bagged a few strands of hair and more samples of the priest’s clothing.</p><p>“Sherly.” Sherlock felt a hand squeeze his shoulder, “we need to leave now, please.”</p><p>Sherlock tried to brush Mycroft’s hand away but he unanticipated his brother’s strength who practically dragged him to the entrance of the chapel. But before they could leave, they heard voices down the hallway.</p><p>“Quick.” Sherlock ran into a smaller room attached to the chapel with Mycroft closely behind. They both shushed each other as the voices drew nearer. The door to the chapel opened slowly as it was accompanied with footsteps.</p><p>“We…found…him…like this…this morning, officer…” One of the voices explained, “this is such a tragedy…”</p><p>Some more footsteps. “You found him just like this?”</p><p>A pause. “Yes, officer.”</p><p>Sherlock and Mycroft waited through another pause and some more footstep falls. “I’ll need this area completely closed off. Please do not let anyone in here, understood?”</p><p>There was another pause and some low murmuring before the door to the chapel closed. Sherlock waited before opening the door.</p><p>“We need to leave, Mycroft and test these samples.” Sherlock commanded swiftly as he found another window to pry open. This time he took his time and opened it without a hitch.</p><p>“That’s what I’ve been saying this entire time.” Mycroft groused as he followed Sherlock out of the window. They walked to the other side of the church before hailing another hansom.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Not long after, Sherlock and Mycroft were back at Baker Street. Mycroft was sitting in a chair on the opposite side of the room watching Sherlock tinker at his desk in the other corner, remaining completely quiet as he inspected the samples taken from the chapel. Mycroft sighed as he watched his brother work.</p><p>“Whatever is in this vial from Dr. Carberry’s study is in some saliva I found on this piece of clothing…” Sherlock finally let out.</p><p>Mycroft perked up at the comment. “Saliva?”</p><p>Sherlock nodded but he kept his eyes on his samples. “There are tear patterns here that closely resemble teeth marks…”</p><p>“Teeth marks and saliva…” Mycroft breathed out, “so the priest was attacked by an animal?”</p><p>Sherlock turned slightly to look up at Mycroft. “It appears so…”</p><p>“What in the world happened to this man…” Mycroft wondered, “and what does that have to do with the drug?”</p><p>Sherlock nodded as he got up from his desk to retrieve a book from his library shelves. “I’m not entirely sure yet, but I’m going to find out. This must have something to do with whomever is framing Watson.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Well, then, Professor Moriarty, if you insist…” Sherlock began as he rose from his seat, “while I find your inclination to spot defining character traits to analyze a criminal…useful…to say the least, I do believe some of your interpretations are far too simplistic.”</p><p>A quieted hush spread throughout the auditorium as Sherlock proceeded to challenge Moriarty’s findings. However, the academic, armed with his practiced patience for these sorts of barbs typical at symposia, stood still as he watched Sherlock closely.</p><p>“Simplistic, Mr. Holmes?” Moriarty asked, smiling.</p><p>Sherlock nodded before continuing. “In my experience, the physical and economic background of an individual isn’t always a perfect indicator in discerning criminal behavior. Actually…” Sherlock shuffled back and forth on his feet before crossing his arms into a thoughtful position, “typically the most perfected criminals have been men of means, such as yourself, Professor.” He waved a hand in Moriarty’s direction.</p><p>Moriarty’s smile cracked somewhat from the provocation. Sherlock paused, but Moriarty waved for him to resume his critique.</p><p>“Please continue, Mr. Holmes.”</p><p>Sherlock nodded. “I will admit that I’ve personally come across situations where the perpetuator fits your astute observations, but those were far less violent and calculated than others,” he then took another moment, posing thoughtfully again, “and with all honesty, those crimes were associated with the less fortunate who had no other recourse to navigate the cruel world we live in…” The comment elicited some mumbling from the audience, a mixture between those who agreed with Sherlock and those who found the comment to be unwarranted, but still enjoyed listening to the discussion.</p><p>Moriarty intently paid attention to Sherlock, but the growing commotion in the audience began to fracture his perfected composure.</p><p>“…which is why,” Sherlock continued ignoring the whisperings, “I think your findings are too simplistic, Professor. Especially coming from some with your invaluable knowledge.”</p><p>Moriarty nodded, but it was clear that Sherlock’s last comment on his work bothered him greatly. Thankfully, one of his research fellows appeared off to the side to indicate that he was almost out of time to finish his lecture. Moriarty returned a curt nod toward the fellow before facing the audience. Sherlock was still standing, appearing to wait for him to add something to the conversation.</p><p>“Well, Mr. Holmes, maybe we can continue this riveting debate at the end of the session. I would love to hear more of your thoughts.”</p><p>Sherlock nodded again as he sat back down in his chair, letting out a self-satisfying sigh. “As you wish, Professor Moriarty. I look forward to it.”</p><p>Moriarty grinned unnervingly at Sherlock before taking a moment to wrap up the end of his lecture. As another speaker took the dais after him, Moriarty sat down in the front row with the other lecturers billed for that day, remaining as stoic as ever, appearing to be enjoying the end-of-the-day talks.</p><p>As the last speaker concluded, the audience shuffled about greeting and acknowledging one another for their work. Some of the audience members surrounded Sherlock to ask him more questions about his work and his knowledge of criminal behavior. Moriarty watched the group swarm Sherlock, waiting a minute or two before finding a clear opening.</p><p>“I hope I didn’t ruin your lecture, Professor Moriarty.” Sherlock offered; his expression pleasant but not too revealing as he spotted Moriarty walking toward his huddle.</p><p>Moriarty laughed as he slapped a hand on Sherlock’s shoulder. “Of course not, Mr. Holmes! I think that’s been the most intriguing analysis of my work I’ve come across in quite some time. I do appreciate the scholarly nudge.” He winked at Sherlock.</p><p>Sherlock waited to respond as his expression remained the same. He then stuck out his hand for the professor to shake.</p><p>“Glad I can be of service, Professor.”</p><p>Moriarty nodded as he accepted Sherlock’s hand, taking a moment before nodding slowly with a broad, widening smile.</p><p>“Perhaps I can call on you to talk to my students sometime in the future. I think they would benefit greatly from your…expertise, Mr. Holmes.”</p><p>Sherlock flashed Moriarty a grin before unclasping his hand from Moriarty’s. “Perhaps. I would be delighted…”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>“What in the world happened to this man…and what does that have to do with the drug?”</p><p>“I’m not entirely sure yet, but I’m going to find out. This must have something to do with whomever is framing Watson.” Sherlock’s body dipped up and down along his library shelves until he found the book he was looking for.</p><p>Mycroft gawked at his brother before sighing loudly again, raising his arms in the air in a huff before letting them fall back down on the armrests.</p><p>“Sherlock, how can I say this as nicely as possible without offending you?”</p><p>Sherlock kept his eyes on the book he was reading. “Then don’t say it.” He responded curtly.</p><p>Mycroft rolled his eyes as he tried get comfortable in his chair but flinched from his elbow injury. “I’m serious when I say that you need to let the police do their jobs. Now you think the murder of a priest has something to do with Dr. Watson?”</p><p>Sherlock ignored Mycroft as he vigorously flipped through pages before finding the page he wanted. He hustled across the room back to his desk.</p><p>“Sherly…you had us running all over London just now. You need to rest.”</p><p>“There’s dirt and some strands of rope in the samples I collected…” Sherlock said to himself as he glanced back and forth between the open book and the samples taken from the chapel.</p><p>Mycroft let out a painful groan as Sherlock continued. “…someone must have entered the chapel with the animal that attacked the priest…”</p><p>“Sherly.” Mycroft said sternly, but Sherlock waved him off.</p><p>“From these samples, it appears that whoever owned the animal may work at a dock, perhaps, or…” Sherlock then turned back to his book to flip through a few more pages until he stopped on one page.</p><p>“…or maybe a cemetery…” Sherlock concluded as he shut the book close before jumping up from his desk to grab his coat.</p><p>Mycroft jumped up from his chair to step in front of Sherlock with an outstretched hand to stop him from leaving.</p><p>“Sherlock. <em>Please</em>. You’re overreacting to a misunderstanding.”</p><p>Sherlock frowned as he tried to get past his brother, but Mycroft easily blocked his path at each attempt. After struggling for a bit, Sherlock finally gave in as he backed away from Mycroft.</p><p>“Mycroft, please get out of my way.” He made his intent clear by the icy stare he gave his brother.</p><p>Mycroft returned the expression, seemingly unmoved. “Sherlock, I am not moving. You’re too upset. Do you really want to continue in the state you’re in? You may end up a making costly mistake.”</p><p>Sherlock stared back at Mycroft, taking a moment before sighing heavily. He turned, dragging his feet to the sofa by the fireplace.</p><p>“Watson even said it himself; I’m the only one who can help him…” Sherlock slumped down into the sofa, “…but I’m probably the reason why he’s in this mess…”</p><p>Mycroft sighed, but before he could contribute, Sherlock sat up somewhat to continue, “…the train incident from earlier this year…” Sherlock sighed again without elaborating further.</p><p>Mycroft shook his head as he reached out to rub his brother’s knee. “I really don’t understand why you think <em>that</em> was your fault, Sherlock. You are quite well known, and I’m sure Dr. Watson knew what he was getting into since the two of you paired up a couple years ago.”</p><p>Sherlock groaned as he sat back in the sofa. “Mycroft, we’ve been together for more than three years—almost four. You know that.”</p><p>Mycroft scoffed as he posed thoughtfully, looking off in the distance. “Has it really been <em>that</em> long? Hm. Time flies, doesn’t it?” He asked mostly to himself, seemingly disregarding the serious nature of the last few hours.</p><p>Sherlock groaned. “Mycroft, please. This <em>is </em>my fault. I have to fix it.”</p><p>Mycroft groaned again. “Sherlock—”</p><p>Sherlock held up a hand to interrupt his brother as he appeared to remember something. “Mycroft…,” he readjusted his position in the sofa to sit up straight, “you need to tell me more about what this informant of yours managed to uncover before the police. How did they know about the priest’s murder before earlier this morning?</p><p>Mycroft rolled his eyes. “You know I can’t do that, Sherlock. If I reveal his identity it may end up jeopardizing whatever lead there is with the drug.”</p><p>Sherlock cocked his head to the side. “Mycroft. This <em>isn’t </em>the time for your usual paltry elusiveness. Watson’s life is on the line. Tell me what you know.”</p><p>Mycroft shook his head. “I won’t reveal his identity, but I can help you trace these vials, Sherly.” He pointed back to the vials on Sherlock’s desk.</p><p>Sherlock eyed his brother; he could tell that Mycroft was holding onto some key information but decided that it wasn’t worth it to get into a fight with his brother over his questionable methods even if whatever Mycroft was unwilling to disclose would help John. Sherlock knew he would find out eventually.</p><p>Mycroft sighed as he rose from his chair. “Obviously, I can’t leave you unattended until all of this is sorted out. No telling <em>what </em>you might do…” He glanced around the sitting room, “I think I spotted a corner bakery not too far away from here. I’ll fetch us something to eat for breakfast. How does that sound?”</p><p>Sherlock looked upward slowly at Mycroft who was now trying to smile back down at him. Sherlock took a moment before nodding, sitting back in the sofa with a heavy-laden sigh.</p><p>“Marvelous, Sherly.” Mycroft rubbed his hands to together, “we’ll eat then maybe we should rest up a bit. I’ve learned a new exotic card game I would like you teach you.” He spun around on his heels, grabbing his coat, hat, and scarf before walking briskly out of the sitting room.</p><p>Sherlock waited as he listened for Mycroft’s footsteps to die down in the hallway before he hurled himself out of the sofa to run over to the bay window overlooking Baker Street. He opened the curtains slightly to watch Mycroft appear out on the street, waiting a bit longer as he watched his brother walk further down the street and round a corner. Sherlock then quickly threw open the window.</p><p>“Wiggins! Wiggins!” He shouted at a group of children huddled on the other side of the street. Wiggins turned around from his group at the sound of his name.</p><p>Sherlock waved at him. “Could you please come up here, Wiggins? I have a job for you.”</p><p>Wiggins waved his cap back at Sherlock before running across the street. Sherlock anticipated Wiggins by opening the door to the sitting room as soon as the child arrived.</p><p>“Mr. ‘olmes! We saw the police this morning!” Wiggins offered as he stood in the threshold of the door.</p><p>Sherlock nodded as he beckoned Wiggins further inside toward his desk. “Wiggins, you’ve always been my most trusted informant…” he tore a page out of the book on the desk before grabbing one of the vials.</p><p>“…which is why I can trust you to help me now…” Sherlock handed Wiggins the page and the vial.</p><p>Wiggins hesitated before he accepted the items. He slowly looked up at Sherlock. “Are you o’right, Mr. ‘olmes?”</p><p>Sherlock smiled weakly, trying to express serenity, but he ended up grimacing instead. “I’m fine, Wiggins. I just need you to use your resourceful contacts,” he pointed to the torn page, “this is a listing of all the docks and cemeteries in the city. See what you can find out about any connection between any of these places and these vials. And I don’t need to remind you to be careful, Mr. Wiggins.”</p><p>Wiggins nodded. “O' course, Mr. ‘olmes!”</p><p>Sherlock attempted another smile before rummaging through his pants pockets for Wiggins's usual payment, but he soon remembered that John was always the one who paid Wiggins his finder’s fee. The thought made Sherlock groan painfully as he slumped down in the chair at his desk, covering his face with one hand, finally succumbing to the crushing weight that someone was framing John for murder.</p><p>Sherlock sighed through the pain as he felt his eyes water, feeling a hand on his shoulder.</p><p>“Mr. ‘olmes…? Are you sure you’re o’right…?” Wiggins asked softly.</p><p>“I can’t…” Sherlock started, trying to wipe his face before looking directly at Wiggins, “I can’t pay you right now, so when you get back, I’ll double what I usually owe you.”</p><p>Wiggins shook his head. “That’s no problem, Mr. ‘olmes! You’ve always been so kind to me.” He smiled widely at Sherlock who couldn’t help but smile back.</p><p>Sherlock nodded as he slowly sat up straight, trying to regain his composure in front of Wiggins, but before he could add anything, loud footsteps accompanied by Mycroft’s voice appeared out in the hallway.</p><p>“Quick, Wiggins!” Sherlock shooed Wiggins across the sitting room into the bedroom, shutting the door closed before launching himself into the sofa near the fireplace.</p><p>“…but really, Sherlock,” the front door to the sitting room opened as Mycroft walked inside, “…I wish you would consider moving out near me. The options at this so-called bakery are abysmal—” he interrupted himself as he noticed Sherlock fidgeting on the sofa.</p><p>“Mycroft, I already told you we like it here. Besides I think musing about moving is hardly the most important matter at hand.” Sherlock responded as he finally sat still. He glanced at the bedroom door to see Wiggins poking his head out.</p><p>Mycroft sighed as he placed whatever he had managed to purchase from the bakery on the table. “The doctor wouldn’t be in this mess if you two lived near me…”</p><p>As his brother blathered on, Sherlock motioned with his head slightly toward the front door, indicating to Wiggins that he should take the opportunity of Mycroft facing away to leave the sitting room.</p><p>Wiggins nodded before quietly crossing the room behind Mycroft who appeared unaware that they had company as he dished out two pastries for himself and Sherlock, still complaining about his brother living in the city. Wiggins managed to close the door to the sitting room quietly as Mycroft finished his thought.</p><p>“…oh, and the government could really use someone with your expertise, Sherly.” Mycroft handed Sherlock a plate before sitting down across from him.</p><p>Sherlock begrudgingly accepted the plate. “Mycroft, I’ve told you this many times before, but no.” He ended sharply, frustrated with the events that morning and his brother’s annoying persistence.</p><p>Mycroft took a bite out of his pastry before placing the plate on the nearest table. “Sherly…I don’t mean to upset you. I’m only concerned about your wellbeing…”</p><p>Sherlock refused to respond as he tried to eat the rest of his pastry. Mycroft sighed as he gazed back at his brother.</p><p>“Sherly…we can’t do much the rest of the day…besides, you should definitely get some rest so you can visit Dr. Watson tomorrow…I’ll…” Mycroft rolled his eyes dramatically, “make sure you can see him. Is the matter settled now?”</p><p>Sherlock looked slightly up at Mycroft so he could look him directly in the eyes. A second or two passed before he nodded back.</p><p>Mycroft smiled broadly. “Wonderful! Now how about you finish your breakfast before lying down. I’ll show you that game later this evening and maybe we can get Mrs. Hudson to cook a decent meal in the meantime.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>Meanwhile…</em>
</p><p>“Please plan to discuss the pages on the psychology of the mind during recitation. I will discuss it further during next week’s lecture. You’re dismissed.”</p><p>As soon as Moriarty finished speaking, the students in the auditorium quickly packed up their things to head out, some lingering and chatting with one another.</p><p>Moriarty packed up his lecture materials, trying to leave the dais as quickly as possible but a few of his students managed to catch up with him, follow him out into the hallway, and to his office. Moriarty fielded a few questions before he escaped into his office, shutting the door on one student who persisted on discussing his last paper.</p><p>Moriarty sighed with relief as he sauntered over to his desk on the far end of his lavish office, one of the few typically reserved for only the most senior and respected of faculty members at the university. He tossed his lecture papers onto his desk before walking over to a tea cart where one of his research assistants had already began brewing him some tea.</p><p>As he poured himself a cup, the stress of the day began to melt finally. Moriarty let out another sigh, but this time one more relaxed and calm as he turned around to walk to the other side of the office where he stored his phonograph. He turned the handle on the device slowly before it began playing one of his favorite pieces of classical music.</p><p>He turned slightly toward one of the windows overlooking the campus, grinning to himself as he drank his tea, watching miniature figures bustle about the green. As soon as he finished his tea, Moriarty placed the empty cup back on the cart before writing a note to his research assistant that the water for the tea could be a little less hot as it will burn it.</p><p>He slipped the note underneath the pot before making his way over to a section of his bookcases that lined the interior of his office. He ran his hand along the spines of the books before he stopped on a copy of Alexis de Tocqueville’s <em>L'Ancien Régime et la Révolution</em>. Moriarty smiled slightly as he pulled the top of the book downward before placing it upright. He stepped to the side as a mechanism embedded within the bookcase clicked.</p><p>A section of the bookcase as wide as a door swung open slowly to reveal a set of stairs descending downward. Moriarty walked onto the landing as the bookcase closed behind him. He walked down the stairs and through an old, reinforced tunnel that once led to the underground maintenance and service areas that had been recently moved above ground for safety reasons.</p><p>Moriarty continued through the tunnel until he found an old, dirty door. He knocked on it three times before someone opened the door for him, a very rough individual wearing working attire. Moriarty nodded at the man before walking further into the space which was filled with a giant table with a map and some papers piled on top; bookcases; and three other harsh looking men who appeared similar to the one who let Moriarty inside.</p><p>“Status please. I have a meeting in ten minutes.” Moriarty commanded to the group.</p><p>One of the three men stepped forward. “The murder went off without a hitch, gov’. They got the doctor in custody.”</p><p>Moriarty crossed his arms with a nod. “Good. So everything seems to be working according to plan then, gentlemen?” He looked at the three in front of him before turning to a degree to acknowledge the man behind him.</p><p>“They’re moving the doctor to Westgate tonight. Same section with Schuller.”</p><p>Moriarty nodded before waving a hand around. “Okay then. Get back to work. We need to set preparations in place for Whitehall’s event.” He responded curtly.</p><p>The four men grumbled to themselves, one of them crossing the room to the other side to access another part of the tunnel that led to the lower levels of the campus. As the men worked, Moriarty turned swiftly to exit the tunnel, marching through the passageway and back up the stairs to his office. The bookcase closed behind him as he pulled out his pocket watch to check the time, grinning to himself that his plan appeared to be working out perfectly.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>Later that evening…</em>
</p><p>John attempted to readjust his position, but the restrains that kept him chained to the uneven table were making it difficult, essentially fulfilling their purpose.</p><p>John let out a heavy sigh; he felt too drained from the morning’s events to even think coherently on protesting his innocence.</p><p><em>…this is all a mistake…</em>John sighed in his head as he mentally reviewed his actions from the previous night. It was true that the servants had overheard an argument between himself and Dr. Carberry.</p><p>
  <em>…but how do I explain this away—</em>
</p><p>The door to the room threw open with a loud thud as Detective Baynes entered. John sat up in his chair, shocked by the man’s behavior.</p><p>“Detective Baynes,” John began as he regrouped, “this is a terrible mistake.”</p><p>Detective Baynes eyed John before sitting down in a chair at the table across from him. His expression remained unchanging until he cracked a slight smile.</p><p>“Okay then, Dr. Watson,” he leaned forward in the chair to place his elbows on top the table, “why don’t <em>you </em>tell me what happened last night.”</p><p>John let out a sigh as he hung his head. He took a moment before looking back up at Detective Baynes.</p><p>“I was at Carberry’s last night…he hadn’t been feeling well…” John sighed again, “…after I checked his vitals, we chatted some more…and I lost my patience with him because…of some sort of experiment he was working on…”</p><p>Detective Baynes perked up at the comment. “Experiment, Dr. Watson?”</p><p>John sighed once more as he looked around the room. “Carberry was working on something, but his methods were unethical…”</p><p>“How so, Doctor?”</p><p>John hung his head; he wasn’t sure how much he should reveal even considering the murder charge.</p><p>“Carberry’s patients…he was giving some sort of a…concoction to the less fortunate…” John looked up to see Detective Baynes’s reaction, but he appeared unphased.</p><p>John thought it was strange but told himself that the detective was probably remaining calm as part of his duty as an officer.</p><p>“I had reasoned with him before. As a doctor, I could not allow him to continue, but he pushed me to my limits the last we spoke—”</p><p>“So, enough to kill him then.” Detective Baynes coolly responded, as he waved a hand about.</p><p>John shook his head. “What? No! I did not kill him…I left after about an hour. I was home when this happened.”</p><p>Detective Baynes eyed John as he sat back in his chair. He tapped his fingers on the desk before cupping both hands in his lap.</p><p>“You must think we’re idiots, Doctor,” the provocation made John stare wide eyed at Detective Baynes as the latter continued, “we have you for this murder.” Detective Baynes wasted little time as he rose from his chair to open the door.</p><p>“We’re moving you to Westgate before the trial, but as you can see there’s little recourse you have. You might as well confess to save everyone the time and energy.”</p><p>“What?” Was all John could offer in the moment, “I’ve done nothing wrong!”</p><p>Detective Baynes grinned at John which made the latter recoil from how unsettling the former’s expression was. The detective stood halfway out between the hallway and the room. “Guards! This prisoner is ready to be escorted.”</p><p>“What? Wait!” John squeaked as he shuffled around in his chair. Detective Baynes stepped to the side to let two guards into the room. They unlocked John’s restrains before marching him out of the room, out of the building and into a police wagon that was stuffed full of other prisoners. John bounced around in the wagon as it drove for what felt like ages until making an abrupt stop.</p><p>The doors to the wagon flew open as some guards dragged John and the other prisoners out into the cold, dark night in front of what looked like a fortified castle. John cringed; he had heard stories about Westgate prison, but he never thought he would end up as a prisoner there.</p><p>The guards shuffled the prisoners inside, documenting their stay before throwing each prisoner into a designated cell. After being dragged down a set of stairs, one guard tossed John into a cell next to a man who was talking loudly to himself in the corner; John could tell that the man was erratic and would probably benefit from medical attention rather than imprisonment.</p><p>“Enjoy your stay, Doctor.” One of the guards poorly joked as he slammed the cell door closed before sauntering away. John heard the guard bang a few times on the cell next to him to quiet the disturbed man down.</p><p>John grimaced as he looked around his cell: it was similar to the one at the Yard, but this time he had his own space.</p><p><em>…if that’s even a positive…</em>John sighed heavily as he slumped onto his cot. He looked down at the cot which had a few stains on it. John decided to stay upright, knowing he wouldn’t be able to sleep that night considering the day’s events.</p><p><em>…hopefully the police listen to Sherlock…</em>John thought, referring internally to his companion giving him a solid alibi but obviously unaware of his actions that day.</p><p>Some minutes passed as John tried to reason with what was happening to him, trying to understand why the police thought he had something to do with the murder. As he tried to lose himself in his thoughts, John could hear loud rambling on the other side of the wall.</p><p><em>…that poor man…</em>John sighed in his head; he could hear the man on the other side of the wall babbling about some academic or something rather.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Early the following morning…</em>
</p><p>
  <strong>The London Times</strong>
</p><p>“John Watson, M.D. Innocent or a Murderous Quack?”</p><p>by Conrad Coney</p><p> </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>You tell me, dear reader. However, I’m inclined to believe the latter.</p>
  <p>Why, you ask? It’s well known, if you’re an avid crime scene follower, that Dr. John Watson can often be seen solving cases and “pursuing” justice with the so-called great Sherlock Holmes.</p>
  <p>But how does this make the famous doctor a murderer, dear reader? Well, think about it.</p>
  <p>How often have we seen men fall when they are exposed for the very thing that they supposedly despise? We truly don’t know what’s going on in someone’s head, but this has been historically the case. One only has to look as far as the goings-on in Parliament and Basil Whitehall.</p>
  <p>You say: “this is only circumstantial.” But alas, according to a source at Scotland Yard, the police have incredibly damning evidence that does indeed implicate Dr. Watson.</p>
  <p>What this evidence is, is a mystery. But surely someone like Dr. Watson who has experience with crime would be able to cover up his tracks. Maybe he wanted to get caught…I’m sure we’ll find out soon if this ends up going to trial…</p>
</blockquote><p> </p><p>Sherlock sighed loudly to himself, but so much so that it disturbed Mycroft who had dropped the knife he was using to spread butter on his toast.</p><p>“What, Sherly?”</p><p>Sherlock sighed again as he folded the newspaper to show Mycroft Conrad Coney’s recent article on the Carberry case.</p><p>Mycroft hummed to himself. “Not surprising that Basil Whitehall managed to survive censure by his colleagues. Was there any doubt he would lose his popular stand—”</p><p>“Mycroft,” Sherlock angrily interrupted, “the article <em>next </em>to the one about Whitehall.”</p><p>Mycroft squinted his eyes as he accepted the newspaper. He nodded with a sigh. “You know this is all gossip and speculation, Sherly. I’m sure Coney managed to persuade a freshly minted officer to give him something. He has no idea what the police has or doesn’t.”</p><p>Sherlock groaned as he rose from his chair to cross the sitting room. “I need to speak with Lestrade once we arrive at the Yard. The police shouldn’t be speaking with journalists.”</p><p>Mycroft rolled his eyes as he finished buttering his piece of toast. “Okay, Sherly. But I really think you should let the matter play out. The doctor’s innocence will come to light, I’m sure of it.”</p><p>Sherlock groaned again as he walked into the bedroom, closing the door behind him. He sighed as he looked at the bed, dragging his feet to sit on the edge. He hadn’t slept all night; he knew he needed to do something quick before John’s case went before trial.</p><p><em>…Wiggins will find something soon…</em>Sherlock reassured himself as he hung his head, thinking about his next plan.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Mycroft hummed to himself as he read the newspaper, but before he could really consume the latest political news, there was a knock at the door. Mycroft wiped his hands with a napkin before sauntering to the door. As soon as he opened it, he expressed his confusion, for he did not recognize the visitor.</p><p>“Uh,” Mycroft squinted his eyes as if that helped him to remember who he was greeting, “may I help you, Miss?”</p><p>“It’s Mary, Mycroft,” Mary answered quickly, “John’s friend?”</p><p>Mycroft slowly shook his head before instantly remembering who Mary was. “Ah! Yes. I met you at that lunch once ago.” He beckoned Mary inside.</p><p>Mary stared at Mycroft before walking into the room. “Dinner.” She corrected.</p><p>“Beg pardon, dear?” Mycroft casually added as he walked back to the breakfast table.</p><p>“It was dinner and we’ve met a few times before, actually.” Mary added. It was clear she was annoyed with Mycroft constantly forgetting her but managed to remain resolve through it all.</p><p>Mycroft turned around to face Mary with a slight grin. “Ah yes, and it was such a lovely dinner, Margaret!”</p><p>“Mary.” Mary quickly corrected again.</p><p>“Mary?” Both Mycroft and Mary turned to face Sherlock who had emerged from the bedroom while buttoning a fresh shirt.</p><p>Mary sighed as she walked toward him, giving him a hug upon impact. Sherlock held still as she hugged him.</p><p>“Oh, Sherlock, I saw the paper!” Mary responded through the hug, “I can’t believe what they’re saying about John! This can’t be true!”</p><p>Mary began to sob as Sherlock stood rigid in her embrace. He looked at Mycroft who looked bemused by the situation before he finally patted Mary on the back.</p><p>“Mary,” Sherlock patted Mary one last time before disengaging himself from the hug, “I have it on good authority that Watson isn’t the man they’re looking for. He was with me the whole night when this supposedly happened.”</p><p>Mary sniffled, still holding onto Sherlock’s arms. “You would know better than me,” she managed to smile through tears, “have you seen him?”</p><p>Sherlock nodded slowly, moved by Mary’s concern which shocked him a little. He choked back his feelings as he walked to the breakfast table.</p><p>“I haven’t seen him since yesterday morning when the police came, but we’re going there today.” Sherlock answered quietly as he picked up the section of the paper folded to display Coney’s article.</p><p>Mycroft turned slightly to face Mary. “Would you care to come along, Martha?”</p><p>“It’s Mary,” Mary answered curtly, briefly frustrated that Mycroft couldn’t seem to care to get her name right still, “and of course. Whatever you need me to do, Sherlock, I’ll do it.”</p><p>Sherlock stayed still as he continued to stare down at the paper in his hands. Eventually, he turned to a degree to acknowledge both Mary and Mycroft.</p><p>“Let’s go now,” Sherlock started as he crossed the room to grab his coat, “we don’t have time to waste.” He added quickly as he exited the sitting room leaving Mycroft and Mary to awkwardly gawk at each other.</p><p>“Well,” Mycroft motioned toward the door, “after you, Miriam.”</p><p>Mary pursed her lips, but then she stopped, reminding herself of Mycroft’s acerbic personality before walking ahead to follow Sherlock.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>At Scotland Yard…</em>
</p><p>Lestrade groaned as soon as he laid eyes on Sherlock, Mycroft, and Mary entering through the main entrance. He was standing next to a junior officer in the main booking area.</p><p>“Holmes,” Lestrade handed some papers to the officer before intercepting the trio before they could walk any further, “you shouldn’t be here.”</p><p>Lestrade stepped right in front of Sherlock who had walked ahead of the group toward where the prisoners were usually detained before processing.</p><p>“Lestrade,” Sherlock began quietly, “I need to speak with Watson.” He stepped to the side to get way from Lestrade.</p><p>Lestrade shook his head. He took a moment to look around the space before lowering his voice. “Holmes, you can’t see Dr. Watson. We’ve already taken him to Westgate.”</p><p>Sherlock stopped trying to maneuver past Lestrade as the inspector sighed. “They’re taking him to trial later this week. There’s nothing more you can do…I’m sorry.”</p><p>This new bit of information seemed to paralyze Sherlock the most as he stood still just staring back at Lestrade, reality sinking in that John could possibly be convicted for a murder he didn’t commit.</p><p>“Inspector Lestrade,” Mycroft appeared, flanking both his brother and Lestrade, “perhaps we should talk about this in your office?”</p><p>Lestrade turned slowly to look at Mycroft before motioning for the group to follow him into his office. Lestrade walked to his desk to lean against; Mycroft and Mary found two chairs to sit in, but Sherlock stood in the middle in the space, anxious to get on with it.</p><p>“Lestrade,” Sherlock started, trying to keep his anger in check, “how can there be a trial when you haven’t even proved Watson’s guilt?”</p><p>Lestrade sighed again as he pushed himself away from the desk to walk around it. He pulled out a drawer before rummaging through it.</p><p>“…one of the officers found this when they were searching Carberry’s house…” Lestrade held up a little plastic bag containing a small pendant covered in dried blood before holding it out across the desk so Sherlock could see it.</p><p>Sherlock hesitated before accepting the bag, realizing that the pendant had the University of London’s medical school insignia inscribed on it.</p><p>“But…John told me that he lost this months ago—” He tossed the bag back on Lestrade’s desk before placing his hands on the edge to lean forward, “Dr. Carberry <em>also </em>attended the University of London. He was in Watson’s cohort. This could be his. Did that ever cross your mind, Lestrade?”</p><p>“Holmes,” Lestrade reached for the bag to turn it over, “the initials on the back are a match for Dr. Watson…not Dr. Carberry.”</p><p>Sherlock looked down at the bag to see that the initials on the back of the pendant did indeed match John’s initials.</p><p>“Holmes, I’m sorry…” Lestrade began, this time his voice sounding calm, although unsteady, “but with this and the eyewitness accounts we have…I’m afraid that…it doesn’t look good for Dr. Watson…”</p><p>Sherlock lingered as he stayed staring down at the pendant. Lestrade frowned as he looked back at Mary and Mycroft. Mary sniffled as she took out a handkerchief from her purse and Mycroft rose from his chair to walk toward Lestrade’s desk.</p><p>“Inspector Lestrade,” Mycroft began, “I’m sure you can make some sort of concession for my brother to see the Doctor. I <em>know</em> it won’t be any trouble.” He made sure to indicate that the slightest bit of trouble would most likely be squashed by his powerful connections.</p><p>Lestrade sighed as he looked at Sherlock who appeared despondent before turning to face Mycroft again.</p><p>“Westgate doesn’t usually allow visitors without a special pass, but I can write one up for you, Holmes.” Lestrade looked directly at Sherlock who was still looking downward at the pendant.</p><p>Mycroft nodded as he patted Sherlock on the back. “This is very much appreciated, Inspector.”</p><p>Lestrade nodded before rummaging around in his desk again. “However, we need to keep this on the low. I’m already going behind Baynes by speaking with you about the case.” He found what he was looking for, scribbling on a pad before handing the note to Mycroft.</p><p>Lestrade then walked around his desk, toward the office door, to peek out into the hallway before closing the door.</p><p>“Baynes is at Westgate now and will be there until late tonight. I suggest you visit the doctor early tomorrow morning.”</p><p>Mycroft patted Sherlock on the shoulder once more before motioning for the group to file out of the office. Sherlock finally acknowledged his brother before turning around to exit the office, but Lestrade stopped him before he could leave.</p><p>“Holmes,” he started in a low whisper, “I don’t know what you have up your sleeve, but please go about it quietly, understood?”</p><p>Sherlock turned to face Lestrade directly. “Why, Lestrade, I have no idea what you mean. I’m not on the case, remember?”</p><p>Lestrade frowned, a little put off by Sherlock’s response. After a moment he smiled slightly just to remain calm before finally letting Sherlock leave the office. Sherlock rushed out into the hallway without further explanation. Lestrade sighed before saying goodbye to Mycroft and Mary who then followed Sherlock down the hallway.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>Later that afternoon…</em>
</p><p>“I suppose I should cancel my meeting with that associate of mine.” Mycroft sighed as he sat down in a chair near the fireplace.</p><p>Sherlock and Mycroft had escorted a distraught Mary back to her home before coming back to Baker Street for a late lunch. Sherlock had been very quiet during the entire ride; a little too quiet if you had asked Mycroft, but the latter had figured it had something to do with the incriminating evidence against John.</p><p>Sherlock sat down in the sofa. “Why, Mycroft? I can manage alone.”</p><p>Mycroft sat up in his chair, turning to gawk at Sherlock. “Because you’re clearly distressed, dear brother. Clearly. The pendant?”</p><p>Sherlock shrugged. “No, I’ve realized that I’ve done all that I can. I’m not happy about it, but…” he took in a deep breath, “I fear I may do more damage than good at this point.”</p><p>Mycroft squinted his eyes, expressing his skepticism. “Sherly…are you certain?”</p><p>Sherlock nodded once more as he leaned back in the sofa. “The pendant is incriminating indeed, but we’ll find Watson adequate representation. Like I told Lestrade before, Watson was only gone for an hour and his revolver has been untouched.”</p><p>Mycroft eyed Sherlock. “Well, yes…and the doctors are—or were acquaintances so there’s a good chance Dr. Watson lost the pendant at Carberry’s prior to his last visit.”</p><p>“Yes,” Sherlock rose from the sofa to retrieve his smoking pipe at the fireplace mantel, “it’s all circumstantial.”</p><p>“Sherly,” Mycroft started again, still seated, “are you sure you don’t want me to cancel my meeting?”</p><p>Sherlock turned slightly away from the fireplace. “Yes, Mycroft. Actually, I think the alone time will do me some good.”</p><p>“Of course, Sherly…” Mycroft squinted his eyes again as if he were trying to decipher his brother’s demeanor, “I think that’s a wonderful idea as well.”</p><p>Mycroft took a moment before rising from his chair. He gave Sherlock one last look as he sighed to himself before crossing the sitting room to grab his coat and hat.</p><p>“I won’t be too long. I’ll be back for dinner,” Mycroft added as he opened the door to the hallway, “would you like for me to ask Mrs. Hudson if she can make lunch for you?”</p><p>Sherlock waved Mycroft off. “No, I can manage that too, dear brother.” He ended with a smile.</p><p>Mycroft frowned before smiling a little. He then nodded as he closed the door behind him. Sherlock stayed at the fireplace, listening to his brother’s footsteps descend the stairs before he sprinted to the bay windows. He peeked out through the curtain, watching Mycroft hail a hansom, waiting for the hansom to take off down the street.</p><p>Sherlock pulled out his pocket watch. <em>I should hear from Wiggins soon</em>…</p><p>He looked out through the window once more before running to the other side of the room to scribble a note to Mrs. Hudson that he had gone out to a long lunch with Mycroft and that she shouldn’t expect them until later that evening for dinner.</p><p>Sherlock then ran back to the window. He looked out beyond the street just in time to see a small child running toward his residence. Sherlock grinned as he watched Wiggins wave his cab at him before entering the building. Sherlock jogged over to the door to the sitting room, opening the door for Wiggins to enter.</p><p>“Mr. ‘olmes! I asked all around!” Wiggins ran into the sitting room, holding out a dirty, torn scrap of paper, “there’s a graveyard worker in Whitechapel that’s been seen with the stuff in the vials.”</p><p>Sherlock smiled as he accepted the paper. He scanned it quickly before walking over to his desk. “Of course the vials have a connection to the cemetery in Whitechapel. I must go there at once.”</p><p>Wiggins followed Sherlock to his desk. “Do you want me to go with you, Mr. ‘olmes?”</p><p>Sherlock leaned up against his desk. “No, Wiggins. I fear that this is becoming dangerous.”</p><p>Wiggins shook his head. “I know the neighborhood, Mr. ‘olmes. You need me.”</p><p>Sherlock frowned as he titled his chin to look directly downward at Wiggins. Wiggins stood up straight, indicating with his facial expression that he was serious about going to the cemetery. After a second or so Sherlock sighed, looking away as he told himself Wiggins would only end up following him to the cemetery regardless whether he forbade him to.</p><p>“You <em>are</em> my most trusted informant, Mr. Wiggins.” Sherlock started with a slight grin as he turned around to face his desk, “let’s leave now.”</p><p>Wiggins let out a gleeful cry before running back toward the sitting room door. Sherlock managed to stop him from getting any further by gently taking a hold of his shoulder.</p><p>“We need to prepare first, Mr. Wiggins,” Sherlock walked back over to his desk, “whatever is in these vials unleashes some sort of dangerous drug…” He found a vial that had a few drops of the drug at the bottom.</p><p>“…we’ll have to disguise ourselves before going…” Sherlock walked to his bedroom as he motioned for Wiggins to take a seat. Wiggins sighed as he sat down, too impatient to wait.</p><p>After a minute or so, Sherlock remerged from the bedroom, dressed like a dock worker, causing Wiggins to giggle uncontrollably.</p><p>“Mr ‘olmes!” Wiggins started through several laughing fits, “you’ll get caught in that getup!”</p><p>Sherlock grinned as he walked to his desk to write a note before putting it in his pocket. “I’ll have you know, Mr. Wiggins, that I’ve managed to go undetected with many a 'getup' such as the one I’m currently donning.”</p><p>Wiggins let out one last laugh. “O’right, Mr. ‘olmes. O’right.”</p><p>Sherlock shook his head before heading toward the door. “All right, are we ready to leave, Mr. Wiggins?”</p><p>Wiggins jumped up from the sofa to follow Sherlock out into the hallway, down the stairs, and out onto the street to hail a hansom to Whitechapel. Not long after, they stopped in front of what looked to be an abandoned cemetery.</p><p>“This is good, thank you.” Sherlock paid the driver before hopping out of the hansom with Wiggins in tow. They walked up to the gate, looking around for any signs of life.</p><p>“This cemetery isn’t too far away from the chapel where we found the priest’s body…” Sherlock said mostly to himself as he pried opened the gate to let himself and Wiggins in.</p><p>The two searched around the cemetery before they found a small shack in a far corner. A man walked out of the shack as both Sherlock and Wiggins walked toward the structure. The man stopped to acknowledge Sherlock and Wiggins with a wave.</p><p>“May I help you?” The man asked.</p><p>Sherlock nodded, pointing to Wiggins. “I’m looking for my brother. This is son. I think I once heard him say he works in a graveyard.”</p><p>The man nodded as he tipped his hat upward to scratch his forehead. “Oh well, I have two workers who help me maintain this cemetery. One of the workers doesn’t live too far away from here.” He pointed in the general direction of the worker’s home, “I think a few blocks down…the house number is…23, I believe…actually, come to think of it, I haven’t seen him all day…”</p><p>Sherlock nodded once more. “Thanks, Sir.” He then motioned for Wiggins to follow him out of the cemetery and down the street toward their next destination.</p><p>Once they arrived at one of the rowhouses labeled “23”, Sherlock motioned again for Wiggins to follow him slowly into the building. They entered, walking down the hallway, immediately seeing a door to one of the units flung wide open. Sherlock held up a hand for Wiggins to stay still as he approached the unit, inching his way to the open door.</p><p>“Dear god…” Sherlock swore as he entered the unit.</p><p>Wiggins caught up with Sherlock to find a man lying in the middle of the room, bloodied and mutilated just like the priest had been.</p><p>Wiggins gasped. “…Mr…’olmes…?”</p><p>Sherlock motioned for Wiggins to stay near the door to the room as he walked over to the man. He searched around the body before collecting some samples. He then straightened up, observing the body to find a set of teeth marks.</p><p>“…just like the priest…” Sherlock said to himself.</p><p>“Mr. ‘olmes?” Sherlock turned around to see that Wiggins was holding some vials he had found in an opposite corner, “these look like the vials you gave me.”</p><p>Sherlock walked over to Wiggins and accepted the vials for inspection. “Indeed, they are, Wiggins.” He crouched down to look through the tray Wiggins had found the vials. He turned one over to see a label from a well-known opium den in Whitechapel.</p><p>“This opium den is not too far away from here, is it, Wiggins?” Sherlock showed Wiggins the vial.</p><p>Wiggins nodded. “A few blocks from here, Mr. ‘olmes.”</p><p>Sherlock stuffed the vials into his coat pocket before straightening up to exit the room. Wiggins followed him out until they were back on the street.</p><p>“Wiggins,” Sherlock stopped walking abruptly to kneel in front of Wiggins, “I think it’s best for me to go to the den alone.”</p><p>Wiggins shook his head. “But Mr. ‘olmes!”</p><p>Sherlock smiled as he patted Wiggins on the shoulder. “You’ve already done more than enough for me on this case, but if something happens at the den, it’ll be easier for me to get out of the situation.”</p><p>Wiggins pouted before slowly crossing his arms with a nod. He knew Sherlock was referring to the police throwing him into an orphan’s home if he was caught making trouble again.</p><p>“However,” Sherlock stood up straight as he pulled out a slip of paper from his pocket, “I need you to pick up a few things for me. Do you think you can find them by tonight?”</p><p>Wiggins nodded quickly as he accepted the note. “O’ course, Mr. ‘olmes!”</p><p>Sherlock smiled down at Wiggins. “Thank you, Wiggins. I’ll see you back at Baker Street tonight.”</p><p>Wiggins nodded again before dashing off in the other direction. Sherlock watched him leave before turning in the opposite direction and down the street, rounding a corner until he found an undisclosed section of rowhouses with a group of people walking in and out.</p><p>Sherlock looked around before walking to the other side of the row of houses. He counted the houses until he found the back window leading into the den. Sherlock looked around himself before finding a crate to stand on to reach the window. He easily pried open the window to climb inside the back room of the den.</p><p>Sherlock hopped down onto the floor quietly, surveying the room before walking into the middle of the space. The room was filled with the usual instruments one would find in such an establishment but something in the corner of the room caught Sherlock’s attention.</p><p>He walked slowly to the corner, seeing immediately a case of vials that matched the ones found at the chapel and the cemetery worker’s room. Sherlock crouched down to inspect the vials further before he heard loud voices on the other side of the thin wall.</p><p>Sherlock took his time standing up to listen to the conversation. Although the voices were raised, the wall muffled most of the conversation. Sherlock pressed his body against the wall a bit more.</p><p>…<em>Schuller…?</em> Sherlock thought to himself, hearing one of the voices say the name.</p><p>
  <em>Why does that name sound so familiar—</em>
</p><p>The door to the back room shook as someone tried to enter. Sherlock grabbed some of the vials from the case before running back to the window that looked out onto the back street. He hoisted himself up and out of the window, leaning up against the wall just as the door to the back room opened.</p><p>Sherlock waited until the rustling in the room died down again. He inched along the wall toward the street, looking both ways before it was clear, but before he could step out onto the street, a hand grabbed him from behind.</p><p>“Oy!” A voice shouted, “what are you doing back here?”</p><p>Sherlock wiggled out of the grasp, turning around to see three rough-looking men flanking him. Sherlock shrugged before running away from the men and out into the street. He looked behind himself as he rounded a corner. Sherlock leaned up against a wall, watching the men run past him before he took off in an opposite direction. Sherlock was too caught up in the moment, however, as he collided with something heavy and unmovable in his path.</p><p>“There he is!”</p><p>The ringing in Sherlock’s ear finally subsided as he looked from side to side to see that he was lying on his back in the middle of the street.</p><p>“Get ‘em!”</p><p>Sherlock looked upward to see that he had ran into a door of an unoccupied hansom. As the voices drew nearer, Sherlock blinked quickly, trying to regain his composure before he jumped up to sprint away from his assailants.</p><p>Sherlock, dizzy from the impact, then ran into a fruit stand, knocking it over which luckily obscured the path of the thugs who were on his tail. Sherlock ran to another street corner, looking both ways before running into a nearby pub.</p><p>Inside the pub, Sherlock dusted himself off before walking up to the front counter. He looked around, trying not to look like he was being chased before spotting a man in the corner, hunched over his drink. Sherlock waved the bartender off before sauntering over to the table. He sat down across from the man before addressing him.</p><p>“Kind sir,” Sherlock started, watching the man slowly look up at him, his body wobbly from drinking all day, “how much for your clothes?”</p><p>The man burped before squinting his eyes. “How, hiccup, much, hiccup, hiccup, you got?”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>Outside the pub…</em>
</p><p>The men that had been chasing Sherlock were standing outside of the pub, waiting for him to come out. After a moment, a man wearing dirty clothes that were a little too big for him, walked out of the pub. He greeted the men before walking past them and down the street before breaking out into a run to hail a hansom.</p><p>Sherlock sighed a huge sigh of relief as he slumped down in the back of the hansom. His body wobbled with the carriage as it made its way back to Baker Street. Sherlock paid the driver before dragging his weary body out of the hansom and up the stairs to the sitting room, slumping to the floor as soon as he made it inside.</p><p>He heaved a few times, both strangely satisfied that he was uncovering more about the case, but equally upset upon remembering that John would face trial soon. Sherlock told himself that he needed to focus, taking a moment before rising from the floor to limp to his desk. He placed his samples on the desk, studying them a while before walking over to his library shelves.</p><p>After finding the book he needed, he flipped through the pages as he walked the book over to his desk. Sherlock scanned the pages as he inspected the samples, running his fingers along the pages before rising from the desk to fetch another book.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>Later that evening…</em>
</p><p>“Dear brother!” Mycroft opened the door to the sitting room, “I hope you’ve managed to rest.”</p><p>He looked around the room to find Sherlock lying on the sofa in his smoking jacket and pajamas, smoking a pipe. Sherlock turned his head slightly to address his brother.</p><p>“Indeed, Mycroft, but I’ve gotten more than just rest.” Sherlock sat up in the sofa before rising to walk to the fireplace.</p><p>Mycroft smiled as he removed his coat and hat. “And I’m not too late for dinner, correct? I was looking forward to giving you more words of wisdom,” he turned around to sit down in the chair facing the fireplace, “and I know all of this is trying, Sherly, but I really think the approach you’re taking is the best—”</p><p>Sherlock held up a hand to stop his brother from rambling on. “Mycroft. We have no other choice but to get Watson out of Westgate. Now.” He turned to face Mycroft directly who looked confused.</p><p>Mycroft took a moment, staring back at Sherlock before nodding with a curt laugh. “Sherlock,” he pointed to the bedroom, trying to appear calm, “you’re exhausted…maybe you should skip dinner and lie down—”</p><p>“I’m serious, Mycroft. You can either go with me or stay here. But I’m getting Watson out of that prison.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hi everyone! Just letting you know that I'm planning to post the next chapter the second week of May! I have a huge deadline the first week so I need some time to finish writing. Thanks for reading! :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>…as anyone could imagine this was the most disturbing episode of my life thus far…and of course in due time I would realize that being accused of a murder I did not commit would only be the beginning…</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The two nights I spent in Westgate were hellish. The guards barely adhered to the meal schedule and I found it difficult to sleep. I spent my time trying to figure out a way to attest my innocence, but as the days passed, it appeared there was no hope in trying. I also missed Holmes dearly, more so than I ever had before. I believe a part of my misery stemmed from taking our relationship for granted…something that I vow to never do again…</em>
</p><p>
  <em>During my stay, my concern for my own wellbeing was at odds with the oath I had taken as a doctor as the poor man next to my cell sounded increasingly unwell as the days progressed. I had asked the guards to let me tend to him, but they refused…</em>
</p><p>
  <em>It wasn’t until the day Holmes and Mycroft were allowed to visit me that I knew what the man was actually capable of…</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>Meanwhile at Scotland Yard…</em>
</p><p>It was late and Lestrade was trying to focus on his work, but he was failing miserably. The Carberry case had been troubling him from the very beginning; not only were the facts of the case seemingly suspect, but also Detective Baynes had been increasingly unwilling to explain his reasonings for charging John with murder besides the eyewitness accounts and the minimal physical evidence found at the scene.</p><p>
  <em>…it doesn’t make any sense…Dr. Watson would never do such a thing…</em>
</p><p>Lestrade sighed, looking up from his desk just in time to see Detective Baynes walking past the open door to his office.</p><p>“Baynes!” Lestrade called, rising from his desk to catch up with the detective who was already halfway down the hallway.</p><p>“Baynes!” Lestrade shouted once more.</p><p>Detective Baynes stopped to turn around; he looked irritated. “What can I help you with, Inspector?”</p><p>Lestrade nodded as he crossed his arms. He sighed, shuffling on his feet. “I need to speak with you about the Carberry case.”</p><p>“And what about it?” Detective Baynes answered, also crossing his arms as he stared Lestrade down.</p><p>Lestrade looked past Detective Baynes down the hallway to ensure they were alone. “I would like to go over the facts with you…” Detective Baynes sighed but Lestrade pressed on, reaching out a hand in a defiant position, “I don’t think everything has been considered.”</p><p>Detective Baynes scrunched up his face. “I’m not sure what you mean, Lestrade.”</p><p>Lestrade inched toward the detective as he lowered his voice. “The evidence you have is barely circumstantial, and you know it.”</p><p>Detective Baynes flinched slightly before grinning. “Excuse me?”</p><p>“That pendant, the eyewitness accounts? Please don’t tell me that’s all you have,” Lestrade unflinchingly countered, feeling himself channeling Sherlock’s ire, “and Dr. Watson has no prior history.”</p><p>Detective Baynes remained unmoved, but Lestrade could tell that the detective was hiding something. What it was, he wasn’t entirely sure yet.</p><p>“People have been convicted with much less, Lestrade. No one should <em>nor </em>can escape the law, even someone supposedly upstanding as Dr. Watson.” Detective Baynes responded as deliberately as possible, causing a chill to travel down Lestrade’s spine.</p><p>“I would hope you would agree with that sentiment, Inspector.” He coldly concluded.</p><p>Lestrade eyed the detective, but something unnerving about the latter's demeanor made his skin crawl. Yet, Lestrade knew it would be a lost cause to push the matter any further without raising further suspicion that could negatively impact John’s case.</p><p>“Yes,” Lestrade began, “of course. <em>No one </em>is above the law, Baynes.”</p><p>Detective Baynes grinned slightly before reaching out to pat Lestrade on the shoulder which caused the other to recoil somewhat. But Lestrade only nodded back as he watched Detective Baynes spin around to walk briskly down the hallway and then disappear into another room.</p><p>
  <em>I really do hope Holmes finds something…</em>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>Back at Baker Street…</em>
</p><p>“I’m serious, Mycroft. You can either go with me or stay here. But I’m getting Watson out of that prison.”</p><p>Mycroft paused as he sat up straight in his chair. He sighed as he crossed his legs, pursing his lips.</p><p>“Okay, Sherly,” Mycroft sighed again after a moment of reflection before rising from the chair, “I’m going to get Mrs. Hudson.”</p><p>Sherlock ran toward the door to stop Mycroft from leaving. “Mycroft, please listen.” He pleaded before marching to his desk.</p><p>“I found a match for the vials we found at Carberry’s and the chapel,” Sherlock turned around with one of the vials and Dr. Carberry’s journal, “there’s a cemetery worker who was also attacked by an animal the same way the priest had been. There was a stash of the vials at his residence.”</p><p>Mycroft looked stunned. “Sherly—”</p><p>“There’s also an opium den that distributes the same vials.” Sherlock continued, “there’s a reason why Carberry was murdered and whomever had him murdered is using Watson to cover their tracks.”</p><p>“Sher—”</p><p>“Mycroft,” Sherlock interrupted, “you’ve seen what happens with this drug. We have to get Watson out of that prison.”</p><p>Mycroft sighed as he glanced at the vial in Sherlock’s hand, but he stayed silent.</p><p>“Mycroft,” Sherlock stepped forward, “you told me you would help me trace the vials.”</p><p>Mycroft nodded with another sigh. “I did, however…” he then let out a heavy groan, “Sherlock, this is getting dangerous. And more so than I think you realize.”</p><p>“You don’t think I know that, Mycroft?” Sherlock huffed as he spun around to face his desk, “that’s why we need to get Watson out of Westgate.”</p><p>Mycroft grimaced as he watched Sherlock with his back facing toward him. He sighed once more as he rolled his eyes.</p><p>“You’re going to do whatever you have planned even if I don’t go with you…” Mycroft stated rather than questioned.</p><p>Sherlock nodded still facing the desk. Mycroft groaned to himself. “Fine. Fine, Sherly. I’ll send a telegram to a colleague of mine. I’m sure I can speak with the director.”</p><p>Sherlock nodded as turned to walk toward the breakfast table. “I very much appreciate that, Mycroft.”</p><p>“Also,” Mycroft started up again, “I want the two of you to stay with me in the estate bordering the city until the trial. I think you need a respite from all of this, Sherly. I don’t know how many times I must tell you that city life is dang—”</p><p>“That sounds like a wonderful idea.” Sherlock interrupted his brother as he turned to face him with a broad smile, “leaving this dreadful city so we can focus on Watson’s case is probably the best thing for the both of us.”</p><p>Mycroft, stunned by his brother’s unexpected reaction, stood silently as he expressed his confusion. “You’re sure, Sherly?”</p><p>Sherlock nodded as he retained his smile. “Of course, Mycroft. Aren’t you? You’re the one who so graciously offered. Of which I also very much appreciate.”</p><p>Mycroft pursed his lips again as he eyed his brother whose expression only remained surprisingly content. Mycroft shuffled back on forth on his feet, seemingly uncomfortable with how reasonable Sherlock was being in the moment. But then, after a few more awkward glances that failed to decipher any true meaning behind his brother’s façade, Mycroft sighed, throwing his hands up into the air as he sat down in a chair near the fireplace.</p><p>“You win, Sherly. But I hope whatever you’re up to isn’t as hairbrained as your behavior these last couple of days.”</p><p>Sherlock laughed as he joined his brother sitting near the fireplace. “No, I’ve realized that I need to let the matters take their course. In due time the doctor’s innocence will come to light.”</p><p>Mycroft nodded slowly before slapping one of the armrest on his chair. “Right, Sherly! Let’s wash up for dinner then,” he jumped up from the chair before walking to the guest bedroom, “also I need to get back at you for beating my score from last night.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>The next morning at Westgate…</em>
</p><p>As soon as the hansom came to a complete stop, Mycroft hopped out, taking a moment to straighten himself out from the journey.</p><p>“All right, Sherlock,” Mycroft looked back slightly at the hansom to see his brother lingering inside, “let’s see what we can do about Dr. Watson.”</p><p>Sherlock barely acknowledged Mycroft as he finally descended the hansom to walk briskly to the main entrance of the prison. He wrenched opened the unnecessarily heavy doors, walking inside to find a guard at the entrance post, reading a novel.</p><p>“My,” Mycroft began, “London’s oldest and surest prison. It’s strange that they’re still housing prisoners here although there are plans to demolish it.”</p><p>Sherlock waved Mycroft off as he approached the guard post. “May I help you, gentlemen?” The guard asked.</p><p>Mycroft nodded as he searched around in his coat pocket for the special visitors pass to show the guard. “Yes, we’re here to visit Dr. John Watson. You’ll see that we have the required pass signed by Inspector Lestrade from Scotland Yard.”</p><p>The guard nodded as he accepted the pass. He read it over a few times, looking up at Mycroft and Sherlock in between glances.</p><p>“You’ll need to see the director,” the guard handed Mycroft the pass back, “he’ll let you in to see the prisoner. His office is down the hall and to the left.”</p><p>Mycroft nodded with a smile as he patted Sherlock on the shoulder before beckoning his brother to follow him down the hallway. They walked past a few armored plated doors until they found the director’s office. Mycroft opened the door for Sherlock, walking behind him as they approached the director’s secretary's desk.</p><p>“May I help you, gentlemen?” The secretary asked in earnest.</p><p>Mycroft nodded as he held out the special pass. “My brother and I would like to speak with the director for a visit with one of the prisoners. We have the correct papers.”</p><p>The secretary nodded as she rose from her desk, rounding it to get to the director’s office. She knocked once before opening the door slightly.</p><p>“Sir, some gentlemen are here requesting a visit.”</p><p>She stepped to the side after a moment to let a shorter man into the space. A joyous expression appeared on his face as he recognized Sherlock.</p><p>“Mr. Holmes, it’s a pleasure to meet you in person, but I’m afraid that I don’t allow visitors without a pass, which are difficult to acquire—”</p><p>“We have the pass, Director,” Mycroft stepped forward, “everything is in order.”</p><p>The director eyed Mycroft before accepting the pass. He looked it over once before looking up at both Mycroft and Sherlock with a genuine smile.</p><p>“Well, it does appear that everything is in order…I uh,” the director looked at his secretary before facing Sherlock and Mycroft again, “I suppose you’re here to see the doctor. Speak with Warden James, who is in charge of the maximum-security sector, that’s where…” he stopped for a moment as he projected a nervous countenance, “where we, uh, keep prisoners who have been charged with more serious crimes like—”</p><p>“Murder.” Sherlock finished for the director who laughed nervously making the entire situation even more awkward than it needed to be.</p><p>Mycroft clapped his hands together. “Well, Sherlock. Let’s speak with Warden James then. Thank you, director.”</p><p>“I can accompany you both there, Mr. Holmes.” The director offered as kindly as possible.</p><p>“Thank you.” Mycroft responded as he then quickly hustled Sherlock out of the office. The group walked down the hallway until they reached the main entrance to the maximum-security cells. The director walked ahead of Mycroft and Sherlock, approaching two guards: one standing watch near the entry cell door that led down to the prisoners’ cells and one sitting at a desk.</p><p>“Warden James!” The director greeted as he turned slightly to acknowledge Mycroft and Sherlock, “we have an esteemed guest in our presence. Mr. Holmes here would like to visit with the doctor.”</p><p>As soon as both guards realized that one of the guests was indeed Sherlock Holmes, both men’s expressions lit up, showing enough youthful curiosity that almost drowned out the dankest of the surroundings.</p><p>“Mr. Holmes!” One of the guards approached Sherlock as he reached a hand out, “it’s such a pleasure to meet you in person.”</p><p>Sherlock smiled weakly as he shook both the guards’ hands. “I wish I could say likewise.” Sherlock responded which managed to drain all the joy the guards expressed at meeting someone they admired.</p><p>Both guards awkwardly glanced at each other before looking at the director who let out a strained cough. Mycroft looked at everyone around the group before clapping his hands together.</p><p>“My dear brother doesn’t do well with fans, I’m afraid.” He smiled at the guards, however they still appeared uncomfortable at possibly offending Sherlock.</p><p>“James,” the director finally stepped forward toward the main cell door,” can you please open the door to allow Mr. Holmes to see Dr. Watson?”</p><p>“Of course, right away.” Warden James nodded quickly as he turned to type a series of numbers into a keypad next to the door.</p><p>“Is this,” Sherlock began, “the only entrance into the cells?”</p><p>Warden James nodded as the mechanism in the door clicked to indicate that the door was now open. “Yes, Mr. Holmes. There’s another entrance on the opposite side of the corridor but it’s been blocked off for security purposes. However, it usually unlocks in case of an emergency.”</p><p>Sherlock walked toward the door before turning to face Warden James. “In what type of an emergency?”</p><p>Warden James beamed as he let on that he was becoming a little too excited that Sherlock was engaging him in conversation about his prison.</p><p>“Usually in case of a fire,” Warden James pointed to the staircase that descended downward toward the cells, “smoke triggers the mechanism in the doors, but we have a guard on watch down with the cells. Thankfully we only have two prisoners in the maximum-security cells, or um—”</p><p>Warden James quickly cut himself off as he panicked, looking in the direction of the director who made a motion with his hands not to be so casual about John being locked up for murder in the basement.</p><p>“Hans Schuller and Dr. Watson.” Sherlock added without flinching. He looked directly at Warden James.</p><p>Warden James laughed nervously. “Uh, yes, Mr. Holmes. In case of a fire, the cell doors in the basement unlock, trigged by the smoke, along with the opposite door leading out, but the guards are well trained to keep the prisoners in line.”</p><p>Sherlock nodded slowly as he looked down the staircase.</p><p>“Take as long as you need, Mr. Holmes.” Warden James offered as he stepped to the side to let Mycroft and Sherlock through the cell door.</p><p>Sherlock walked down the stairs with Mycroft closely behind. They then walked toward another guard who was sitting at a desk. After speaking with the guard, the guard then rose from his chair to lead them to the other end of the corridor past a few cells until they stopped at the last one. There they found John lying down on a cot facing the wall.</p><p>“Watson!” Sherlock called as soon as he approached the cell bars.</p><p>John shot up straight as soon as he heard Sherlock’s voice. He looked at the cell bars before launching himself off the cot to get closer to Sherlock.</p><p>“Holmes!” John cried as he reached out through the bars, “I can’t believe…they told me they didn’t allow visitors.”</p><p>Sherlock waved him off with a weary smile. “Lestrade kindly wrote a special pass.”</p><p>John nodded as he smiled widely, but the smile quickly faded once he realized that Mycroft was also with Sherlock.</p><p>“Mycroft.” John muttered.</p><p>Mycroft smiled as he joined Sherlock at the cell bars. “Dr. Watson, enjoying your lodgings?” He sneered.</p><p>“Mycroft.” Sherlock quickly responded before an increasingly irate John could quip back.</p><p>Mycroft rolled his eyes as he stepped back, but in doing so, his sudden movement caused the prisoner next to John’s cell to let out a horrible shriek.</p><p>“Oh my.” Mycroft hopped away from the cell back toward John’s. John sighed, hanging his head as he leaned up against the bars.</p><p>“I’m afraid that the guards do little for that poor man…”</p><p>Sherlock nodded. “Yes, but I’m not sure how much one could do for a man as far gone as Hans Schuller.”</p><p>John perked up. “Hans Schuller? You mean <em>the </em>rat killer? I thought he disappeared.” John tried to look past the bars as best as he could.</p><p>“Yes,” Sherlock responded quietly as he looked in the direction of Schuller’s cell, “the once respected chemist. He’s been in Westgate for quite some time,” he then turned to face John, “I have a lead with your case, Watson.”</p><p>John scrunched up his face. “Excuse me, you have <em>what</em>?”</p><p>Sherlock nodded. “I’ve done some digging. I went to Carberry’s and found—”</p><p>“Holmes!” John groaned as he slapped a hand to his head. “Holmes, when I said you were the only that can help me, I meant cooperating with the police to tell them I was with you most of the night, <em>not</em> to go out and try to solve this yourself!” His voice rose in earnest as he finished.</p><p>Sherlock shook his head to calm John. “I found something at Carberry’s that links to a series of murders, and you’re being framed—”</p><p>“You don’t think I know that?” John interjected.</p><p>Sherlock shook his head again. “Calm down, Watson. Not <em>only </em>are you being framed, something about all of this is bigger than it appears. But I’m afraid I cannot provide further details as we are being watched.”</p><p>John expressed his confusion as he looked as best as he could down the corridor see the guard sitting at the desk playing cards. He groaned with an eye roll as he faced Sherlock directly again, convinced that his companion had lost his mind.</p><p>“Holmes, what did I say? You need to cooperate with police.”</p><p>Sherlock waved him off again. “The police are not helpful. You need to trust me.”</p><p>John sighed as he spun around to pace back and forth in the cell. Sherlock watched for a second or so. “You have to trust me, Watson. This is the only way.”</p><p>John sighed again as he stopped pacing. He rested his hands on his hips as he looked down at the bare floor.</p><p>“I don’t think I really have any other choice now, but do you know how much more worse you can make this, Holmes?”</p><p>“I haven’t and I won’t,” Sherlock responded as he pointed behind himself at Mycroft, “Mycroft spoke with a contact of his and we can get you out of this prison today. We’re staying in one of Mycroft’s estates before the trial.”</p><p>John took a moment before looking over at Sherlock who looked determined. He then looked at Mycroft who smiled widely.</p><p>“That’s…possible?” John let out.</p><p>Sherlock nodded. “Yes. Mycroft?”</p><p>Mycroft nodded as he turned to walk away. “I’ll speak with the director now. Come along, Sherly.”</p><p>John, expressing bewilderment, watched Sherlock reach out to him through the bars before turning to catch up with Mycroft. Sherlock and Mycroft quickly ascended the steps leading into the guard room before taking the hallway back toward the director’s office. But before entering, Sherlock stopped Mycroft with an outstretched arm.</p><p>“Mycroft, I’ll just be a minute.” He pointed in the direction of the restroom that was down the hallway in the opposite direction.</p><p>Mycroft nodded, but he eyed Sherlock for a second or so. “All right, Sherlock. Don’t be too long. Remember the hansom is waiting for us.”</p><p>Sherlock nodded as he walked briskly to the restroom. He closed the door behind him, looking around quickly before walking up to a sink. He opened his coat, carefully pulling out the items he had Wiggins acquire for him the night before.</p><p>Sherlock worked swiftly, yet carefully, using a steady hand to place a clay-like substance into some pieces of foil. He wrapped everything up, looking behind his shoulder for any signs of entry before placing several foiled balls into his coat pocket. He then straightened himself out, remarking to himself how exhausted and horrible he looked from the last couple days, before exiting the restroom to walk back to the maximum-security cells.</p><p>“Mr. Holmes?” Warden James greeted, “I thought you were speaking with the director?”</p><p>Sherlock shrugged. “I need to speak with Dr. Watson for a minute alone if that’s all right.”</p><p>Warden James nodded as he turned around to type the code into the keypad again. “Of course, Mr. Holmes.”</p><p>Sherlock nodded as the door clicked open again. He waited before calmly walking down the steps and up to the guard desk.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>John stood up from the cot to pace some more. <em>I told Holmes not to get involved…I really do hope this does not become any worse…</em></p><p>John stopped pacing as he soon as he heard voices at the far end of the cell corridor. He walked up to the cell bars to see out of the corner of his eye, Sherlock speaking with the guard at the desk.</p><p>“My good man,” John heard Sherlock, “the director informed me that you are needed immediately.”</p><p>Some murmuring on the other side of the cell wall interrupted John’s attention; he could now hear Schuller talking loudly to himself, which wasn’t atypical, but the man sounded anxious. But before John could really dwell on it, he smelled smoke before seeing Sherlock running toward his cell, followed by a large cloud of smoke. John backed away from the bars as the mechanism in the door clicked.</p><p>“Holmes!” John shouted as Sherlock opened the cell door, “what in the world is going on?!”</p><p>Sherlock shook his head as he grabbed John to drag him out of the cell. “No time to explain.” He responded as he pulled an incredibly confused John out into the corridor.</p><p>John tried to orient himself to what was happening, but Sherlock took a tight hold of his arm to drag him toward the opposite door leading out of the basement to the front entrance of the prison.</p><p>“Holmes!” John shouted again as they run up the stairs through the growing clouds of smoke.</p><p>Sherlock quieted John with one finger pressed to his lips. He hugged his body up against the wall, sticking out an arm for John to do the same. They could hear guards shouting about a fire down in the basement.</p><p>“Follow me, Watson.” Sherlock watched for the front post to make sure it was clear before sprinting to the entrance.</p><p>John looked around aimlessly as plumes of smoke obscured his vision. He finally spotted the entrance to the outside, running as fast as he was able. Outside, he found Sherlock hopping into a hansom, waving for him to come along.</p><p>“Watson!” Sherlock shouted, “quick!”</p><p>John, without wasting another moment, ran toward the hansom, and the driver took off as soon as both men were inside. John was too disoriented by the situation to fully comprehend that his companion had just helped him escape from Westgate.</p><p>“We’re going to Mycroft’s estate,” John could hear Sherlock through the daze, “he’ll join us there later once he realizes that we’re gone.”</p><p>John blinked a few times. “Holmes?” But before he could further berate Sherlock, something out of the corner of his eye caught his attention as the hansom sped away from the prison. In fact, it was a figure of man running in the opposite direction from Westgate. John’s eyes widened as he realized that the man running away was Hans Schuller.</p><p>“Holmes!” John shouted as his body bounced with the increasing speed of the hansom, “Schuller! He escaped!”</p><p>“Watson,” Sherlock responded harshly, “I know.”</p><p>John craned his neck to gawk at Sherlock. “Holmes! That man is dangerous. Do you have any idea what you have done?!”</p><p>Sherlock settled into the rocking motion brought on by the hansom. “Yes, you’re out of Westgate,” he leaned forward, “how long until the estate?” He asked the driver.</p><p>“Should be there in about three hours, Mr. Holmes.”</p><p>“Good.” Sherlock sat back before looking at John who still looked incredibly confused. “I’ll explain everything when we get to the estate, Watson. But for now, young Wiggins gathered some items for me to help with the escape. Homemade smoke bombs that triggered the poorly designed cell door system.”</p><p>John shook his head a few times. “Holmes!”</p><p>Sherlock held up a hand. “No one was hurt, I promise you.”</p><p>“What?” John gasped, “that’s really the least of it, Holmes!”</p><p>“Watson,” Sherlock turned slightly in his seat, “you have to trust me. I know what I’m doing. I couldn’t allow you to stay in Westgate because you won’t receive a fair trial.”</p><p>John’s face drew a blank; he nodded as he stared back at Sherlock, both strangely grateful for not staying another night in Westgate, but also equally perplexed by why his companion would now put himself in danger.</p><p>“Holmes, the police…” John said quietly.</p><p>Sherlock shrugged. “The police are the least of our worries. We can’t trust the Yard.”</p><p>John nodded as he sat back with a sigh. He closed his eyes, letting out one more sigh as he felt a hand on his thigh.</p><p>“I’m sorry, but I will explain later. I promise.” John heard Sherlock offer softly.</p><p>But all he could do, probably brought on by the confusion and timing of the escape, was nod as his weary body was finally freed from the miserable conditions at Westgate.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>Late that early evening…</em>
</p><p>“After I realized that you two were gone—thank you again, by the way, Sherly, for not completely including me in your plans…”</p><p>Mycroft was standing next to the fireplace in the front parlor of the mansion that sat on his estate on the edge of London. John was sitting in a chair facing Mycroft, huddled in a blanket. Sherlock walked over to John’s chair to hand him a cup of tea before sitting down to listen to Mycroft.</p><p>“…I took a hansom back to Baker Street to inform Mrs. Hudson, but I thought it would be better to keep her there in order not to raise suspicions when the police inevitably pay her a visit. I figured Sherlock was up to something more devious than simply requesting my help…”</p><p>Mycroft turned around to sit down in a chair next to Sherlock. “I really do hope you know what you’re doing, Sherly.”</p><p>Sherlock rolled his eyes as he rose from the chair to stand in front of Mycroft and John. “Questioning my methods will only hinder my efforts. Everything is going according to plan, however,” he turned directly to face Mycroft, “Mycroft I need you to tell me about your informant. I need his name, now.”</p><p>Mycroft sighed as he leaned back into his chair. “Sherly, I don’t—”</p><p>“Mycroft.” Sherlock sharply commanded.</p><p>Mycroft frowned before looking at John then back at Sherlock. “Fine…,” he rolled his eyes, “…the priest has a nephew…that’s who found him the night before the police.”</p><p>“And what does he know about the vials?” Sherlock questioned.</p><p>“What vials?” John interjected, looking back and forth between Sherlock and Mycroft, “what vials, Holmes?”</p><p>Sherlock waved a hand as he turned slightly so that half of his body was facing the fireplace. “I suppose I should finally explain myself.”</p><p>“Yes, that <em>would be</em> most appreciated.” John responded harshly, leaning forward so that he could place his hands on his knees.</p><p>Sherlock took a moment before turning around to face John directly. “You remember your medical conference from the beginning of the year.” He stated as a matter of fact.</p><p>John rolled his eyes. “You mean the medical conference I didn’t get to attend because of the train explosion and ensuing fight with thugs masquerading as train employees? That medical conference?”</p><p>Sherlock nodded. “Precisely.”</p><p>John groaned. “What, Holmes?”</p><p>“That day on the platform…” Sherlock stepped toward John, “I knew something was the matter as soon as we said our goodbyes…”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>Flashback to the beginning of the year…</em>
</p><p>“Holmes, please. I’ll only be gone for few days.”</p><p>John was facing an incensed Sherlock on a train platform. One of the train employees passed by them, shouting for everyone to board the train. Sherlock had his arms crossed with one eyebrow raised.</p><p>“It would have been nice to have least been invited to join, Watson.”</p><p>John laughed as he rubbed Sherlock’s arm. “I promise I’ll make this up to you, all right? The days will fly by, I promise.”</p><p>Sherlock nodded, but he had turned his head to look away. John rolled his eyes as he picked up his bag.</p><p>“I’ll send you a telegram as soon as I am there. Please don’t give Mrs. Hudson too much trouble while I’m away.”</p><p>John smiled back at Sherlock who finally faced him directly. John then turned around to board the train, waving at Sherlock before disappearing into the corridor. As soon as Sherlock could no longer see John, he turned to walk briskly along the platform while the train employee was now calling for last minute boarders. Sherlock looked down the length of the train, spotting a shady individual he had noticed while saying goodbye to John standing near the edge of the platform.</p><p>The shady figure waited a second before hopping onto the back of the train. Sherlock quickened his pace as he followed the figure from a safe distance, hopping on the back of the train out of sight of the platform station employees. Sherlock waited before following the figure further into the train, using the same window the individual had just pried open effortlessly.</p><p><em>…well, it appears that this person is not working alone…</em>Sherlock swiftly deducted as he landed softly into the back corridor of the train.</p><p>Sherlock hugged his body up against one of the compartments as he watched the figure proceed to the next car. Sherlock looked around the space before finding a maintenance closet that had been left open. He slid inside the very tight space, leaving the door to the closest somewhat ajar so that he could survey the compartments.</p><p>Sherlock waited for about an hour or so before one of the compartment doors opened, revealing an elegantly dressed woman. She straightened her hat out before closing the door to compartment but the latch on the door failed to close the door tightly. Sherlock waited for the woman to walk down the corridor to the next car before quietly opening the door to the woman’s compartment.</p><p>Sherlock slowly closed the door behind him, glancing around quickly until he found the woman’s portmanteau underneath a seat. He crouched down to pull out the chest, opening it to rifle through until he found a costume that he thought he could more or less conceal his identity in. He then searched around for the woman’s makeup, finding a smaller box full of cases and lipstick tubes. Sherlock made up his face as quickly as possible before placing one of the tubes of lipstick into a small coin purse he had found in the portmanteau.</p><p>Sherlock straightened his outfit out as best as he could, donning one of the woman’s hats, before exiting the compartment. He looked back and forth down the corridor before shrieking at the top of his lungs, calling for help. He then waited for a minute or so before a train employee appeared at the other end of the car.</p><p>“Miss?” The train employee huffed as he approached Sherlock, “everything all right?”</p><p>Sherlock shook his head as he pointed to the inside of the woman’s compartment. The train employee looked at the compartment before looking back at Sherlock, squinting his eyes to indicate that he thought something was amiss about Sherlock’s disguise.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” Sherlock managed to pull off in a higher voice octave, “but I think there’s something wrong with my compartment.”</p><p>The train employee scrunched up his face at the sound of Sherlock’s voice, but waved it off. He peered inside anyway.</p><p>“I don’t see anything…” the train employee responded, looking around aimlessly.</p><p>Sherlock waited as the man turned his back, and as his back was in full view, Sherlock noticed something very strange about his attire. The man was wearing a bandolier underneath his uniform that became exposed when he had turned. Sherlock smiled as he slipped the tube of lipstick into the bandolier.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>“Which,” Sherlock said as an aside, “caused the aforementioned explosion.”</p><p>John rolled his eyes as he waved a hand to get Sherlock to get to the point of his long-winded explanation…</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>“…but we can give you another compartment, if you wish.” The employee offered as he turned around to face Sherlock, “I’ll send someone momentarily.”</p><p>Sherlock nodded with a slight bow which made the train employee frown. Sherlock then straightened up to watch the man spin around quickly to jog in the opposite direction.</p><p><em>…Watson’s compartment shouldn’t be too far behind…</em>Sherlock thought to himself as he jogged to the next car. Upon opening the door to the next car, Sherlock could see John entering his compartment. He waited for John to go inside before positioning himself outside in the corridor, waiting a second longer for his companion to remerge with his back facing him before shoving him back inside the compartment…</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>“Holmes,” John interrupted, “while I have to admit that I appreciate your fortitude in recognizing that I was in danger that <em>one </em>time, what does that have to do with Carberry? Also, may I remind everyone that a very dangerous man is still on the loose in London.”</p><p>Sherlock shook his head. “The point, Watson, is that you’ve been a target from the very beginning, hence why you’ve been framed for your colleague’s murder. But I failed to see the connection until now. And, indeed, Schuller is dangerous, but he’s not the one we should be worried about.”</p><p>John frowned. “How do you know that, Holmes?”</p><p>Sherlock nodded as he fished out Carberry’s journal from his back pocket. “…in Carberry’s journal, he referenced an ‘H.S.’ I didn’t make this connection until much later, but obviously the ‘H.S.’ refers to Hans Schuller…”</p><p>Sherlock flipped through the pages to show John. “Schuller was one of Carberry’s patients. It appears that Carberry kept the chemist’s illness a secret and he tried to have him committed but failed. They took Schuller to Westgate instead after it was discovered that Schuller was connected to some past instances related to poison that’s involved some sort of muscular stimulant…”</p><p>Sherlock flipped to another page before walking to the other side of the parlor to find a vial he kept in his coat pocket.</p><p>“…whatever Schuller went to prison for was the same substance in some vials Mycroft and I found at Carberry’s—the police didn’t even bother to search through the study.”</p><p>Sherlock handed the vial to John who wearingly accepted it. “The substance in the vials is the same substance that Mycroft and I found at the murder scene of a priest in Whitechapel and the same substance I found with Wiggins at a cemetery worker’s home who had suffered a similar fate as the priest…”</p><p>John studied the vial before slowly looking up at Sherlock. “What happened?”</p><p>Sherlock sighed. “It looked like both men had been attacked by an animal and viciously so. I think it has something to do with whatever is in the vials. Carberry was working on something related to this—”</p><p>“Oh my god…” John interrupted suddenly. He leaned forward to place his head into his hands. Both Sherlock and Mycroft looked at one another as they waited for John.</p><p>“…oh my god…” John repeated. He kept his head in his hands before slowly looking back up at Sherlock once more who looked equally terrified.</p><p>“Carberry was working on an experiment…” John started, “it was some sort of drug…,” he sighed as he stood up from the chair to walk a bit away from Sherlock and Mycroft.</p><p>“…I knew there was something unethical about it…I tried to stop it…,” John turned around to face Sherlock and Mycroft, “the last time I saw Carberry I was arguing with him about what he was working on…” John pointed to the vial, “that night I found out that he was testing his experiment on people in Whitechapel…”</p>
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